


South of the Border

by GreyMichaela



Series: Never Ever [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Frottage, Hand Jobs, I have a new character to torture and I'm running with it, M/M, Shower Sex, Slow Burn, Wing Kink, Witches, angst angst angst, no seriously this is angsty like whoa, reference to past torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-22
Updated: 2014-05-12
Packaged: 2018-01-20 09:11:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 35,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1504814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreyMichaela/pseuds/GreyMichaela
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean, Castiel and Sam are hunting witches in Mexico.  Which is all par for the course until Gabriel happens to them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I seriously, seriously do not know how this happened and I have no excuse. I told my wonderful beta disheveledangelinatrenchcoat before I started this fic that I didn't really ship Sabriel, although I had no real objection to them. And then I started writing, and apparently Gabe ships Sabriel and turns out I'm just along for the ride.
> 
> Talk about this baby getting out of control in a hurry. Still, I had hella fun with it, I'm completely in love with Gabriel now, and I hope you guys like it too!

Dean really hadn’t planned for the archangel in the backseat. 

They’d crossed the border into Mexico several hours earlier and Dean was already bored with cactus and scrubby trees.  Sam was slouched in the front seat next to him, head slumped against his shoulder as he snoozed.  There might have been drool; Dean had already taken several incriminating photos for future blackmail material.

Cas was sitting in the back, gazing out the window.

“You ever been to Mexico before, Cas?” Dean said.

“Of course, Dean,” Castiel said.  “I have been here many times over the course of the centuries.”

Dean slid down a little in his seat.  _Of course he had.  Millennia old angel, dumbass._

“I have not traveled through it in this way, though,” Castiel said.

Dean glanced in the mirror.  “In a car?”

“Yes. It is…slower.”

“Well yeah,” Dean said.  “But roadtrips are about the journey, not the destination.”  He winced a little at the cliché.

Cas looked thoughtful and turned to look out the window again.

The Impala ate up the miles and Dean lost himself in a pleasant daydream involving silken ropes, a certain angel and possibly whipped cream.

So when there was only a flap of huge wings and the _whump_ of misplaced air to warn him before Gabriel _fell_ into the backseat of the car, Dean nearly drove off the road in his shock.

The tires squealed and bit into the pavement and the steering wheel fought Dean as he struggled to right their trajectory and stay out of the ditch. Sam jerked upright, diving for the gun in the glove box.  When Dean had the car back under control, he stomped on the brakes and whirled to stare into the backseat.

Cas stared back at him, stunned, a very bloody and only semiconscious archangel draped halfway across his lap.

“That’s…harder than it looks,” Gabriel gasped.  He lifted a weak hand to salute both Winchesters. “Sorry for inviting myself to your party, boys, but I needed a quick…breather…and…”  He sagged sideways and Castiel had to grab his shoulders from keeping him from sliding off the seat.

Gabriel’s head lolled, his eyes closed.

“ _Shit_ ,” Dean snarled, slamming the Impala into park.  Luckily, the road was deserted and there was little chance of them being overseen.

Opening the back door, he grabbed Gabriel’s shoulders and hauled him out of the car, stuffing his jacket under the shorter man’s head to protect him from the hard asphalt. Sam scrambled out behind him, stuffing the gun into his belt.

Castiel followed, kneeling next to the archangel and placing two fingers on his forehead. It only took a few seconds before he gasped and reeled back.

Dean steadied him, alarmed.  “What is it?” he demanded.

“I can’t heal him,” the angel said, stunned.  “He… _reeks_ of demons, he is tainted throughout, and I think…”  He lifted his eyes to Dean.  “I think he is dying, Dean.”

 _This is all we need,_ Dean thought helplessly.  Gabe was a dick, sure, but he’d come to them for help.  “Is there _anything_ you can do?” he asked.

Cas looked back down at the unconscious man.  Gabriel’s lips were pale under the blood that streaked his features, and his face was slack, so unlike the Trickster they all knew.

Carefully, Cas placed two precise fingers on Gabriel’s forehead again and closed his eyes.  There was silence for several minutes, broken only by the wind and Gabriel’s harsh breathing.

Finally, Cas dropped his hand, swaying a little.  Dean steadied him with a hand on his arm.  “You okay, buddy?” he said.

“Tired,” Castiel admitted.  “I did as much as I could to cleanse the demon taint from him, but I think all I did was slow it down some.  He needs rest, and more help than I can give him.”

Dean looked up at Sam, gnawing on his lower lip.  _What should we do?_ Dean asked silently.

Sam shrugged. _How should I know?_

Dean scowled. _You’re no help._

“Your silent conversations with your brother are a little unnerving,” Gabriel suddenly said, making them both jump.  “Does telepathy run in your family or is it limited to you two?”

He was gazing up at them from his prone position, a little more color in his lips and a faint gleam in his eyes. 

“How are you feeling?” Dean asked.

Gabriel grimaced.  “Worse than I look, and you don’t have to spare my girlish pride; I know I look like shit.”

“What _happened?_ ” Castiel asked.

“Lucifer found me,” Gabriel said.  He made as if to sit up and glared when three pairs of hands pressed him back against the tarmac.  “This isn’t the most comfortable bed in the world,” he pointed out. 

“So we’ll get you into an actual bed,” Sam said firmly, “And then you can tell us all about it.”

“Will you be in the bed with me, Sammy?” Gabriel said, and Dean could swear the archangel was actually batting his eyelashes.

Sam stared at him for a moment before snorting and hauling the smaller man to his feet. “Don’t call me Sammy.” Dean helped bundle Gabriel into the backseat as Cas slid in the other side so that the archangel could rest his head on Castiel’s leg.

When they were settled, Cas nodded.  “Let’s go. He needs rest and he won’t find it in the back seat of your vehicle.”

“Hey, Baby’s very roomy,” Dean said, affronted, but he put the Impala in gear and pulled onto the road.  They made excellent time to Monterrey and Dean chose the second motel he saw that looked like it offered halfway clean rooms.

Before too long they were stumbling through the bedroom door, with Gabriel, who had passed out again, slung between Dean and Castiel.  Sam had tried to help but Dean had pointed out that his height difference made it too difficult to keep the injured man level, so Sam contented himself opening the doors and making sure the bedspread was clean.

They helped Gabriel onto one of the queen beds with a grunt. Sam disappeared into the bathroom and Dean could hear water running.  He reappeared shortly with several wet washcloths and started unbuttoning Gabriel’s shirt.

The archangel floated back to awareness enough to weakly bat at Sam’s hands. “Buy me dinner first, you big lug,” he managed, and then he was back under, eyes rolling back into his head.

Sam cast a look at Dean, who shrugged helplessly. 

“He probably means nothing by it, Sam,” Castiel said.  He sat down on the bed and took one of the washcloths, dabbing carefully at Gabriel’s bloody face.  “He jokes as a way to hide his true emotions.  I believe he is deeply afraid but doesn’t wish for us to see.”

Sam peeled back the blood soaked shirt and all three men gasped. Gabriel’s chest was a red ruin of claw marks stretching from collarbones to navel.  White bone showed in several places and Dean had to swallow hard to keep his lunch down.

“Jesus,” Sam breathed.  “What did this?”

“Hellhounds,” Castiel said, his voice clipped.  “I can heal his physical wounds and have already begun to do so, but the filth in his blood is what will kill him if we don’t find him help soon.” He looked up at Dean, his eyes somber. "We don't have much time."

“What do we do?” Dean asked.  “Can we call another angel?”

“ _No_ ,” Castiel snapped. “No, another angel would simply relay the news to Heaven.  Gabriel is hiding from the hosts, remember?  He would not thank us for turning him over to their tender mercies.”

“Then _what?_ ” Dean demanded, raking a hand through his hair. 

“To begin with, are we sure we are hidden from both angelic and demonic view?” Castiel asked.

Sam didn’t look up, carefully daubing the rapidly reddening washcloth across Gabriel’s chest, lip caught between his teeth.  “There are hex bags in the Impala.  I can make some more tonight if you can get me some of the ingredients I’m missing. We should keep them all on us at all times.”

Castiel nodded.  “Make me a list and I’ll have them here within the hour.”

Sam set the cloth down and picked up the notepad by the telephone, scribbling a lengthy list before handing it to the angel and resuming his work cleaning Gabriel’s torso of blood.

“And what do I do?” Dean asked.  He _hated_ feeling helpless.

Castiel took several quick steps to him and cupped his face in his warm, dry hands. “Remember those witches we came here to find?”

Dean nodded, confused.

Castiel leaned in and kissed him, lips lingering.  “We still need to find them,” he said.  “They may be the only ones who can save Gabriel now.”  He disappeared with a flap of wings and Dean was left gaping helplessly after him.

“Well… _shit.”_

He sat down on the other side of Gabriel and picked up a clean cloth. “Sam, go get the first aid kit from the car, would you?”

“Why can’t you do it?”

Dean looked up, startled, but Sam had his eyes fixed on the jagged gouge he was carefully cleaning around.

“Uh…yeah, okay, I can do that.”  He stood and skirted the bed, catching his foot in the stupidly long dust ruffle and muttering to himself, but Sam still didn’t look away from Gabriel.

When Dean got back in with the kit, Sam had moved up to Gabriel’s face and was holding the angel’s jaw steady with one hand while he wiped off blood with the other. Gabriel’s eyes were still closed and he seemed paler, if possible.

Dean set the box on the bedspread and opened it.  This wasn’t a ten dollar Band-Aids and gauze starter kit from Wal-Mart; being hunters meant not being able to go to hospitals for anything but truly life-threatening wounds, and that meant being able to take care of on the job injuries themselves, for the most part.

The box was wooden and had gradated shelves under the hinged lid; Bobby had made it for them one Christmas and Dean had stocked it himself with everything a hunter could conceivably need in the way of medical supplies. He was justifiably proud of it; he’d had two proposals of marriage over it and one old hunter had nearly burst into tears of envy upon seeing it.

Dean glanced over at Gabriel, assessing.  It looked like the worst wounds were beginning to close thanks to Castiel, but they needed to be irrigated, cleaned and bandaged.

“Take his pants off,” Dean said, and Sam shot him a slightly panicked look. Dean was too busy pulling what he needed out of the chest to notice, but when Sam failed to move, Dean sighed in irritation and unzipped Gabriel’s jeans himself, tugging them down around his ankles.

“We have to make sure nothing else is going to get infected,” he said in an I-really-shouldn’t-have-to-tell-you-this tone of voice.

Thankfully there wasn’t much below the belt that needed attention; a few scrapes to be cleaned, but that was it.  Dean emptied Gabriel’s pockets, dumping a small pocketknife, a wallet, a lollipop, some loose change and an oddly square coin on the mattress next to the angel.

“He’ll be more comfortable now,” Dean said.  He was able to pull Gabriel’s jeans up quickly while Sam focused on the archangel’s face with a rigid attention to detail.

“Get ready,” Dean said, uncapping the iodine.  “This is probably going to wake him up and he’s going to be _pissed._   I’d like to go unsmited, if it’s all the same to you.”

He poured the liquid over the largest of the gashes and Gabriel came off the bed with a panicked yell, arms flailing.  Sam threw himself forward over the archangel’s chest, pressing his shoulders back against the bed and pinning him there, avoiding the wounds lower down while Dean worked as fast as he could, pouring, wiping off with sterile gauze and taping each injury.

“S-Sam…” Gabriel whispered, writhing.  His hands were wrapped around Sam’s wrists and he stared up at him, eyes glassy with shock.  “Hurts…”

“I know,” Sam said through his teeth.  “Has to be done. Have to sterilize the wounds. You don’t want to have survived all the hell you went through just to die of a stupid infection, do you? Just a few more minutes. Hang in there.”

Gabriel’s hands tightened on Sam’s wrists but he said nothing, looking into Sam’s hazel green eyes with the desperate intensity of a drowning man.

“Almost done,” Dean said.  “Have to check his back, see what it looks like.  Gabe, can you sit up or would you prefer to roll over on your stomach?”

Gabriel looked confused.

“He’s really out of it,” Sam hissed.  “Get him up on his side; I’ll keep him there while you work.”

Dean nodded and together they rolled the slim man onto his right side, facing Sam, while Dean went over the injuries on his back.

The hunter swore.  “Sam…these look like lash marks.”  He pointed to the crosshatch pattern that striped Gabriel from shoulder blades to hips. “Someone’s worked him over but good. Hellhounds may have chewed on his front half, but this?  This was done by a human. Or at least someone with opposable thumbs.”

Sam grimaced but said nothing as Castiel appeared in the room, holding several paper sacks.

“You should double-check, Sam, but I believe I got everything that was on your list.” The angel set the bags on the other queen bed and bent to look at the whip marks on Gabriel’s back. His lips tightened. “Andromalius,” he hissed.

“Sorry, what?” Dean said, looking up.

“He is an Earl of Hell and that is clearly his work,” Castiel said. He touched the weals and they shrank before Dean’s eyes, the skin knitting over the worst of the wounds, going from dark red to flushed pink.  “There, now he will be able to lie on his back without too much difficulty. The injuries on his chest and stomach will take longer to repair.”

Dean glanced up at Gabriel’s face.  His eyes were closed and his head had fallen forward until his forehead was pressed against Sam’s thigh.  Somewhere in there he’d passed out again.  Dean and Sam eased him over onto his back again and Castiel examined the dressings.

“Good,” he approved, and Dean suppressed a swell of pride.  “I believe he has some broken ribs, too.  We’ll need to wrap his chest so they can knit properly.”

Cas held his hands an inch over Gabriel’s slow-moving chest, splaying his fingers wide, and closed his eyes.  A glow sprang up around his hands that wove in and around his fingers before delving beneath Gabriel’s skin and vanishing completely.  Castiel stood up, swaying slightly, and Dean moved in to steady him.

“I have woven a piece of my grace in with Gabriel’s,” Cas said, blinking. “This will help slow the spread of the taint and we can work on finding the witches.”

“How long do we have?” Dean asked.  He wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer.

Castiel’s lips tightened.  “I would estimate that if we do not find them within two days time, Gabriel will be dead.”

“Well, don’t sugarcoat it or anything!” Sam snarled.

Dean blinked. That was a lot of venom for an archangel they barely knew, let alone liked.

Castiel didn’t react, simply looking at Sam.  “Would it help matters if I did?” he inquired.

Sam’s shoulders slumped and he looked down at Gabriel’s limp form. “I just…don’t like seeing him like this.”

Dean stood up and started laying out the items in the paper bags on the dresser. “Make yourself useful, Sammy; get over here and help me start making more hex bags.  Gabe’s not going anywhere and there’s nothing else we can do for him right now.  And you, Cas, lie down. Don’t fucking argue with me; you’re about to drop where you stand.  You can’t help Gabe if you’ve shot your own wad.”

Sam scooped the items from Gabriel’s pockets into his hands and dropped them on the dresser while Cas made his way to the empty bed and lay down, making a small grateful noise as he sank into soft pillows.

“Take your shoes off, you nerd,” Dean called, but Castiel was already sound asleep. Dean sighed and set down the hex bag he was putting together to pad over to the bed and pull the angel’s shoes off for him. Skimming a hand through the unruly black hair, he gave in to temptation and pressed a kiss to Castiel’s temple before returning to Sam and the hex bags.

His brother said nothing, all his attention on the bag in his hand, making sure the herbs and other ingredients were added in the right amount and proper order.

Dean cleared his throat.  “You wanna talk about it?”

“Talk about what?” Sam said.

“About how you suddenly went all Mama Hen over an angel who’s dicked us around pretty much since the day we met him, just because he could?”

Sam glared at him.  “He fixed Cas’s wings, didn’t he?  He didn’t have to do that. He could’ve stayed out of the whole mess.”

“You’re right,” Dean admitted, tying the leather strap of his third hex bag and adding it to the growing pile.  “He didn’t have to and I’m still not sure why he did.  Cas is pretty mum about that.  But one thing I do know; your reaction was still way over the top.”

Sam dropped his head, focusing intently on his hands.  “You didn’t see it,” he mumbled.

“See what, exactly?”

Sam looked up.  “The look in his eyes. There was this moment when he dropped the mask, when he stopped being the stupid _Trickster_ , and I saw… _him._ The real him.  The one who’s been alone far too long, who jokes and teases to keep people away, because anyone he lets in dies and then he’s alone again. He’s scared, Dean; he’s hurting and terrified and if I can help him feel even the slightest bit better then dammit, I’m going to try.”

Dean stared, mouth open.  “You got all that from a _look?_ ”

“It was a very intense look, okay?” Sam snapped.

Dean grinned. “Sam.  Sammy.  Are you trying to tell me you have the hots for Gabriel now?”

Sam jerked his head up, outraged.  “What? _No!_ God, do you ever think about anything besides sex?  That’s…ew! No!  I’m not _attracted_ to him, you sex-crazed fiend, that’s disgusting!”

Dean flinched.  “Because he’s a guy? So you think… _I’m_ disgusting?”

“No, _no!_   Shit, that’s not what I meant at all.  It _works_ for you and Cas, it’s obviously right and I’m _happy_ for you.”  Sam shoved his hands through his floppy hair with a muttered curse.  “I just…I don’t swing that way, okay?  I’m not interested in guys, and I’m sure as shit not interested in a fucking _archangel_.”

He threw the hex bag on the dresser and stalked for the door.  “I’m going for a walk.  I need some fresh air.”

“Sam,” Dean called.

Sam turned and the hex bag caught him in the chest with a thump.

“Don’t take it off your person at all,” Dean said.  “Not even if you’re getting laid.  I don’t care if you have to hold it in your teeth, that thing stays in contact with you at all times.  Clear?”

Sam looked at the bag and back up at his implacable brother, watching him with one eyebrow raised.

“Okay,” he said.  “I won’t be too long.”

The door shut behind him and Dean turned back to the dresser with a sigh. A movement on the bed caught his eye in the mirror.  Gabriel was awake, watching the door with an expression of mingled hurt and resignation on his face. Dean shifted his weight, wondering what he should do, and Gabriel’s eyes slid closed immediately, feigning sleep.

Dean rubbed his face.  “We are so fucked up,” he muttered to himself, and pretended he didn’t hear the soft snort of agreement from the bed.  Instead he glanced over at Gabriel’s belongings, the square coin catching his eye. It looked ancient, the copper covered in a grimy patina that turned it almost black.  Dean picked it up to get a closer look.  A stylized figure on a horse was in the very center, with numbers stamped in the corners and what appeared to be Russian Cyrillic characters at the top and bottom.

Dean shrugged and tossed it back with the other loose change.  Probably something Gabriel had picked up on a jaunt to the middle Ages, knowing him.


	2. Chapter 2

Sam stalked down the sidewalk, scowling.  He didn’t know why he was so angry, not really.  Dean hadn’t said anything Sam hadn’t already thought himself. So what if he wanted to help Gabriel? The archangel was hurting and needed them.  Sam could understand that, and he’d be damned if he’d let someone be in pain when he was in a position to help even a little bit.  Didn’t mean he was lusting after Gabriel, for God’s sake!

He dodged a sloe-eyed girl in tight jeans, barely even registering the appreciative glance she gave him, and ducked into a small cantina. 

“Un cerveza, por favor,” he told the barkeep.

Settling in a corner booth with his cold beer, Sam began to drink, brow furrowed. He had a lot to think about.

 

***

 

Dean was in the bathroom brushing his teeth when Sam stumbled back through the door.  He leaned out, startled, to see his brother trying and failing to get his boots off.

“Sam?”

The taller man grunted. 

“Need some help there?”

“I’m _fine,_ ” Sam snapped.

“Uh…okay.” Dean put his toothbrush away and stood for a moment watching as Sam finally managed to get his second boot off and then stood, swaying.

“Where am I s’posed to sleep?” he finally said plaintively.

“Well, Cas and I have that bed, and Gabriel’s out cold and hasn’t so much as twitched in hours.  So you can sleep with him – sorry, in the same bed as him, or you can crash on the floor.”

Sam grimaced.

Dean took pity on him.  “Yeah, considering the hangover you’re going to have tomorrow, you probably don’t want to sleep on the floor.”  He gripped Sam’s elbow and gently walked him toward the bed where Gabriel lay still and silent.

“Is he…” Sam couldn’t finish.

“He’s fine,” Dean said.  “Well, not _fine,_ but he’s as well as can be expected. Now lie down.  I promise I won’t take pictures of you sleeping with a man.”

Sam muttered under his breath but allowed his brother to maneuver him into position on the bed.  Dean helped him under the covers and tugged them up over his broad shoulders as Sam rolled onto his side, his back to the still unconscious Gabriel.

Satisfied that his brother was comfortable, he padded back to his bed and crawled in next to Cas, who rolled over to face him.

“Is he alright?”

“He will be,” Dean whispered.  “He’s going to have one bitch of a hangover in the morning and we’ll have to put up with him being a complete princess about it, but otherwise he’s okay.”

Cas scooted closer, one leg finding its way between Dean’s, his fingers tangling in the hem of Dean’s t-shirt.

Dean arched an eyebrow in the dim glow from the streetlight outside. “Really?” he mouthed.

Cas smiled at him and the hunter’s heart rate spiked.

“Fine,” he hissed.  “But we have to be _quiet._ ”

Cas’s hand snaked down between them, slipping into the slit in Dean’s boxers with unerring ease.  Dean closed his eyes as the angel explored with clever fingers.  His dick was rapidly hardening and his breathing sped up as Cas palmed him and began to stroke.

Dean pushed his hips forward, fucking into the angel’s fist, eyes closed and lip caught between his teeth.  Small needy sounds fell from his mouth and Cas leaned in and caught the hunter’s lips with his own in a silent reminder of the need for quiet.

Dean’s mouth opened and he welcomed the angel in, tongues sliding and tangling together.  He could feel his orgasm gathering deep in his pelvis, his balls tightening, fire coiling in his belly.  Castiel encouraged him soundlessly with hand and lips and Dean gasped against him, body stiffening in release as he came in hot pulses over the angel’s welcoming hand.

Cas gentled him through it, dropping soft kisses on Dean’s trembling eyelids, his cheeks and forehead.  Finally the hunter’s breathing steadied and his eyes opened.  Cas smiled at him and Dean’s lips quirked.

“ _Thank you_ ,” he mouthed, and then his hand was under the covers and finding Castiel’s erect cock. He grinned as the angel’s head fell back, eyes fluttering shut.  Oh yeah.

 

*** 

 

Sam woke up hating the world in general and the other three occupants of the room in particular.  He was pretty sure his head was going to crack in half and he almost wished it would, if it meant the agony would stop.

“Rise and shine, Sammy!”  Dean sounded ridiculously chipper and Sam spent a satisfying moment envisioning how best to kill him.

“If you start singing Asia, it’ll be justifiable homicide,” Sam growled.

Dean laughed. “I got you some breakfast tacos but something tells me you’re not really hungry yet.”

“Stop talking.”

“Yeah, no can do, little brother.  So did you have a nice time getting drunk off your ass?  Did you find a pretty senorita to help ease your emotional pain?”

Sam cracked an eye open and glared at his brother, who was sitting at the small table with his feet up on the chair opposite.

“There were no senoritas,” he snarled.  “Just me and a whole lot of beer.  Now _shut up._ ” He sat up and immediately regretted his decision, clutching his head. 

“You know, Cas could probably take your hangover away,” Dean observed.

Sam looked at the angel, who was sitting on the bed examining something; Sam couldn’t see what from where he was. 

Castiel glanced up.  “Of course,” he said.

“Except for needing to bank all his angel mojo to keep Gabriel alive, of course,” Dean pointed out.

Sam may have whimpered.  Cas stood up and rounded the bed.  His fingers were cool against Sam’s throbbing forehead.

“It is a negligible amount and won’t make much difference in the long run,” he said, and suddenly the pain was gone.

Sam gasped. “Marry me, Cas. Right now.”

“Hey, hands off my angel!” Dean said, glaring.

Castiel smiled at Sam and went back to his seat.  “The sentiment is appreciated, Sam, but my heart belongs to another.”

“Worth a try.”  Sam shrugged. “Where are these famous tacos then?”

Dean pointed and Sam pounced happily, bearing his prize back to the bed, where he settled cross-legged and began to eat.

“How’s Gabe this morning?” he asked, mouth full.

“No change,” Castiel said.

Sam glanced down.  Gabriel’s eyes were closed, one arm outflung and the other resting on his chest. Sam put the back of his hand against the archangel’s forehead.  “Fever seems to have gone down a little bit.”

Gabriel twitched, reaching up and grasping Sam’s wrist as his eyes opened. “Feeling up a sleeping man? Really, Sammy, at least wait until I’m awake and I can enjoy it.”

Sam jerked his hand back and scrambled off the bed.  “You’re such a dick!”

Gabriel smirked.  “You’re just now figuring this out?”

Dean glanced between the two men resolutely not looking at each other. Tension thrummed in the air until Cas stood up, shaking out his wings with a snap that got everyone’s attention, even Sam, who couldn’t see them.

“Enough. Gabriel, who tortured you?”

Gabriel winced.  “Do we have to talk about this?”

“You know we do.”  Castiel’s voice was implacable.  “It was Andromalius, wasn’t it?”

“Well if you knew, why’d you ask?”

Dean rolled his eyes.  “How old are you again?”

Cas ignored this, stalking towards the angel still prone on the bed.  “Why, Gabriel?  What did he want from you?”

Gabriel plucked at the bedcovers, mouth tight.  “It doesn’t matter now.”

Sam snorted. “Dude, you nearly died. You still might, if we can’t figure this out.  I’d say it matters a _lot._ ”

Gabriel shot him a glare.  “Stay out of this, Moose. You don’t want to get involved, believe me.”

“Well, it looks to me like I already _am_ ,” Sam snapped.  “So make with the information already!”

Gabriel sighed.  His hands were trembling and Sam hated that he noticed that.  “He…wanted something.  I might have taken something that Lucifer needed, and Andromalius was trying to get it back for him.”

“Okay, can we pause this conversation for a minute and let the shmucks in the room in on who exactly this Andro-whatever-guy actually _is?_ ” Dean demanded.

“He is an Earl of Hell,” Castiel said.  “He is charged with punishing thieves and retrieving stolen items and he has legions of demons at his disposal.  You do not walk away from Andromalius once he has you.”

“Well, clearly,” Gabriel pointed out, “I _didn’t._ ”

His voice was weakening.  Against his better judgment, Sam sat down on the bed again, laying one large hand over Gabriel’s trembling one.  The archangel stilled, looking up at the hunter with surprise on his face.

“That’s enough for now,” Sam said.  His voice was firm. “Gabe’s done.  He needs to rest.”

Castiel made a frustrated noise.  “Sam, if we do not find out what exactly Andromalius _did,_ we may not be able to heal Gabriel.”

Sam just looked at him, face implacable.  “Fine. But we’ll do it in stages, and right now Gabe needs to rest.  He’s upset and hurting and _we’re done._ ”

Castiel sighed, surrendering.  “Dean, we need to look for the witches.  Sam can stay here with Gabriel.”  Before either man had a chance to respond, he’d placed a hand on Dean’s shoulder and they disappeared from the room, leaving Sam still holding Gabriel’s hand.

 

Sam jerked away like he’d been scalded and Gabriel suppressed a sigh.

“Really, Sammy, you’re going to just have to accept the fact that I am irresistible. I know you want me and who could blame you, but I don’t want this to come between our friendship.”

“We are _not_ friends,” Sam snapped. “And don't call me Sammy."

Gabriel blinked.  “Okay…that actually hurt a bit.  If we’re not friends, then why are you so set on taking care of me?  And why is it that when I got away from Andromalius, I ended up in _your_ car?”

“Wait, you didn’t do that on purpose?”

Gabriel shook his head.  “I wasn’t thinking that clearly.  I just wanted _away_ , and apparently my subconscious brain took me to the safest place it could think of. Man, Freud would have a field day with that, wouldn’t he?”

Sam didn’t smile, staring at the archangel as if he’d grown a second head. Gabriel checked to make sure he hadn’t. Nope, still just the same devastatingly handsome one he’d always had.

Finally Sam sighed.  “I don’t even know what to do with that.  I’m going to change your bandages now.”

Gabriel waggled his eyebrows.  “Anything to get those hands on me again.”

“Stop it,” Sam said, but there was no heat in his voice.

He settled on his knees next to the prone man, pulling the blankets back to reveal Gabriel’s chest, covered in reddened gauze.

“It’s just a flesh wound,” Gabriel said.

Sam’s lips quirked as he peeled back the first bandage.  “At least your arm’s not off.”

Gabriel gasped, delighted.  “Sammy! You’re a Monty Python fan too? Clearly our love was meant to be!”

Sam sighed but he couldn’t hide his smile.  “You just don’t know when to stop, do you?”  He didn’t protest the use of his nickname, though, and Gabriel couldn’t help feeling a little heartened by that.

Sam’s fingers were gentle, deftly probing the edges of each wound to check for signs of infection.  Still, Gabriel sucked in a breath when Sam prodded a particularly sensitive spot.

“Sorry,” Sam murmured.  “Almost done.”

Gabriel was trembling again when Sam put the last square of fresh gauze in place, taping it down carefully.

“You know,” Sam said, “When Cas lost his wings, touching Dean helped. It kept the pain at bay somehow.”

Gabriel nodded.  “I’ve heard of that happening between soul mates.  It’s pretty rare though.”

“Well, I guess you have to have a soul before you can have a soul mate,” Sam said, his lips twitching.  “So it probably sucks to be you.”

Laughing _hurt,_ Gabriel discovered. “Sammy, did you just _sass_ me?  There’s hope for you yet, kiddo!”  He sobered. “Anyway, you have to be bonded before it works, or at least that’s what I’ve heard.”

“What do you mean, ‘bonded’?  Dean and Cas weren’t…”

“Castiel rescued Dean’s soul from Hell, Sam.  He wove the raggedy thing back together with bits of his own grace and then remade Dean’s body from the cells out.  You really think they weren’t bonded?  Believe me, they were.  They were just too stupid to realize it for a long damn time, or at least Dean was.”

Sam sat back on his heels, thoughtful.  “Huh.”

“Yeah.” Gabriel sighed, suddenly wanting to change the subject.  “Got anything to eat?”

“There’s a few breakfast tacos left,” Sam said.  He pushed the Styrofoam container closer to Gabriel, who grimaced.

“Not real food, Sam; are you trying to poison me?  I need candy.”

Sam fixed him with a glare.  “I’m not getting you any candy until you eat at least one taco.”

Gabriel pouted.

Sam folded his arms and did an impressive imitation of a brick wall.

“Oh, _fine,_ ” Gabriel snapped. He scooted himself up against the headboard, wincing.  Sam grabbed a pillow and helped him lean forward enough to tuck it behind him and Gabriel tried not to notice how warm Sam’s hand was on his shoulder.

“Does it have to be a whole one?” he whined.

“The entire thing.  But if you’ll eat it and not hide it under the covers or something, I’ll go out and get you whatever candy you want.”

Gabriel brightened.  “Really?”

“Well, if I can find it,” Sam temporized.

“Payday.”

“Sorry, what?”

“I’m craving a Payday,” Gabriel said patiently.  “You know, salty peanuts and sweet caramel?  I _need_ one. Go get me one, Sam. Better yet, get me a dozen.”

“Eat your taco first,” Sam said.

Gabriel obeyed, with much sighing and rolling of eyes.  When the last bite was gone, Sam handed him a cup of water. “Drink that and I’ll be back as soon as I can.  Don’t move.”

“Like I’m going anywhere?” Gabriel snapped but Sam just smiled as he pulled his boots on and left the room.

Gabriel sighed and stared at the ceiling, wishing his grace was available. “Get me a Coke, too!” he shouted after the hunter.

When Sam came back, he was clutching a plastic bag in one hand and a six-pack of Coca-Cola in the other.

Gabriel clutched at his heart.  “And they say romance is dead!”

Sam gave him a level look.  “You’re getting one candy bar.  _One._ And only one can of soda and do not even _think_ about trying to wheedle more than that out of me. This much sugar would flatten an elephant on a good day and you are _not_ on a ‘good day’.”  He waited until Gabriel gave a sulky nod before handing the archangel a can of soda and putting the others in the tiny fridge.  Then he sat down on the edge of the bed and watched as Gabriel took a deep swallow and sighed happily. 

“Hits the spot, it does.  Now pass over the good stuff.”

Sam reached in the bag and pulled out a tiny candy bar, tossing it on the bed. Gabriel stared in disbelief.

“That…you…” He looked up at Sam, who was smirking, and back down again.  “That is the _smallest_ candy bar I have ever _seen,_ you bastard!”

Sam was outright grinning.  “You didn’t specify size. And I’m not going to help you rot your teeth.”

Gabriel glared.  “Oh, I will get you for this.  You…will… _pay.”_

Sam lifted an eyebrow, unimpressed.  “What are you going to do, smite me?  You seem a little impotent right now, if you don’t mind me saying so.”

Gabriel’s eyes narrowed.  Impotent, was he? They’d see about that. He picked up the candy and unwrapped it. Bringing it to his lips, he poked out the tip of his tongue, tasting the salt of the peanuts and a hint of the sweet caramel underneath.  He didn’t miss the way Sam shifted position on the bed, but he kept his eyes fixed on what was in his hand.

Gabriel slid the candy into his mouth, closing his eyes and savoring the explosion of flavor across his tongue.  He moaned a little and Sam cleared his throat.  Gabriel looked up to see the hunter staring at his lips, eyes dark.

Gabriel swallowed and then slid one finger at a time into his mouth, licking off the hints of caramel and peanuts that lingered.

Sam stood up abruptly.  “I’m…I forgot, I have to…I’m going out,” he said over his shoulder, and then he was out the door and gone and Gabriel was alone.

The archangel grinned.  He hadn’t missed the distinct bulge in Sam’s jeans.  Oh yes; regardless of what he _said,_ Sam’s body was definitely interested. 

Gabriel slid back down to a prone position, grimacing at the pain that spiked through his abdomen and reminded him of his situation.  Well, if he only had a few days left, he was damn well going to make the most of them.


	3. Chapter 3

“Dammit Cas, stop _zapping_ me places without warning!” Dean jerked his arm away from the angel’s grip.  They were standing in a forest, trees so thick around them that the sun barely made it through.

“My apologies, Dean,” Castiel said, “But I felt our time would be better served by searching out any possible sign of the witches and besides, I received the distinct impression that Gabriel and Sam needed to be alone.”

“With… _what?_   Are you serious?  Gabe and… _Sam?_ ”

Cas regarded him with one eyebrow raised.  “Is this a problem for you?”

Dean shook his head, struggling to wrap his mind around the concept. “I mean, I’ve teased him about it, but I didn’t think…I was just giving him shit.  I didn’t expect him to take me seriously! Shit, did I turn my little brother gay?”

Cas gave him a long-suffering look.  “No, Dean, you didn’t ‘turn Sam gay’.  That’s impossible.  It is, however, likely that Sam may be bisexual and coming to grips with this part of himself. He will need you to be patient with him.”

Dean’s mouth was hanging open.  He shut it with a snap.  “He…I can’t believe this.”

Cas didn’t roll his eyes, but it was a close thing.  “Dean, if you can be attracted to both men and women, why can’t Sam?”

“He _can,_ ” Dean protested, “It’s just…hell, I don’t know.  I just have to readjust my thinking, I guess.  I’ve always thought of him as straight.  And attracted to _Gabe?_ ”  He shuddered.  “Surely he’s got better taste than that?”

Cas straightened, offended.  “Gabriel is an archangel and the Messenger of the Lord and he is considered a prize catch, Dean Winchester.  Sam would be _lucky_ to have him.” He turned and began to stalk through the trees and Dean had to chase after him.

Grabbing his arm, Dean pulled the angel around to face him.  “I didn’t mean it like that,” he said.  “I’m sure Gabriel’s a great guy.  And yeah, okay, he’s easy on the eyes.  But he’s jerked us around so much; hell, he trapped us in TV land and he killed me like two hundred times, dammit!  You can see why I might be a tiny bit prejudiced against him, right?”

Castiel’s eyes softened.  “In his own way, he was trying to teach Sam a lesson,” he said.  “Granted, he went about it in a very tactless manner, but he really did mean well.”

“I know,” Dean said.  “Doesn’t mean I appreciate dying horribly in my own personal Groundhog Day, but I do get it.” He stepped closer, pulling Cas in until they were chest to chest.  “I’ll try to be okay with it,” he said, leaning his forehead against the angel’s. “The important thing is that Sam is happy.”

He kissed Cas swiftly, then stepped back and glanced around.  “Now, where the hell are we?”

“Cumbres de Monterrey national park.”

“Oh. And…why, exactly?”

“Because it’s over four hundred thousand acres of forest and mountains,” Castiel said patiently, “And if anyone is going to go unnoticed, this is the best place for it.”

Dean glanced at their dimly lit surroundings.  “But… _nature,_ ” he said. “Why would anyone want to live out here?”

“Living at peace with nature can be quite rewarding,” Cas said, and began to walk, forcing Dean to follow.  “It can be very peaceful, being disconnected from the pressure of everyday life.”

“Yeah well, living without wifi is my definition of hell,” Dean growled, tripping over a tree root.  “But why are we _here,_ in this specific spot?” He waved his arms at the mosquitos that seemed to be homing in on him, ignoring the angel in front of him. _Figures,_ he grumped to himself.

“Because we’re not the only hunters looking for these witches,” Cas said.

Dean jerked to attention, forgetting the mosquitos.  “What?  How do you know?” He grabbed for the gun in his waistband, glancing around, but all he saw was trees and more trees.

“Relax, Dean.”  Castiel sounded _amused,_ the bastard. “They’re camped not far from here, and I thought we might go have a word with them.  Put the gun away, please; we’re not here to fight anyone.”

“Right. Of course.”  Dean shoved the gun back into his pants, feeling stupid. He didn’t need to be on the defensive against other hunters anyway; they were all on the same team, right?

They walked for a few more minutes, the ground angling upward steeply enough that Dean was beginning to regret his second double cheeseburger the night before when Castiel finally stopped and pointed.  A small green tent was pitched on a level patch of ground, wedged in between several large trees and with a huge thicket directly behind it.

“No sneaking up on them,” Dean noted.  “Smart.”

A young woman stepped out of the tent, glancing around.  Dean took a step forward and she jerked a long knife from the sheath strapped to her thigh, falling into a defensive crouch.

“Whoa, easy there,” Dean said, holding up his hands.  “We come in peace.”

The woman – girl, really; she couldn’t have been more than eighteen – straightened, her eyes suspicious.  Closer to, she was quite striking.  Short, dark red hair curled close to her scalp and blue eyes regarded them over the knife she held with a confidence that said she knew how to use it.

“Who the hell are you?” she said.

“I’m Dean Winchester, this is Castiel,” Dean said, keeping his hands away from his body and giving her his best smile.  “And you are?”

“Incredibly not interested,” the girl snapped.

Dean blinked. That didn’t happen often.

A dark-haired young woman stepped out of the tent, holding a pistol pointed at Dean. Dean took a step back, alarmed.

“Whoa, hey, come on!  Friends, dammit!”

“Harper, this is Dean Winchester.”

The second girl looked startled.  “ _The_ Dean Winchester?”

Dean shot a smirk at Cas, who rolled his eyes. 

“Hi,” Dean said, stepping forward and holding out his hand.  “Nice to meet you.  And you are…?”

“Not interested either,” the brunette stated flatly.  But she holstered the gun and finally shook Dean’s hand. “Harper.  This is my sister Addie.”

Addie slid her knife back into its sheath and nodded.

Dean smiled at both of them.  A little charm went a long way, in his experience.  “Sorry for startling both of you, but we were hoping to talk to you about the hunt you’re on.”

Harper’s eyes narrowed.  “How do you know what we’re hunting?”

“Because we’re hunting the same thing,” Castiel said, stepping forward.

Both girls stared at him.

“Only we need to take at least one of them alive,” Dean said, and now the stares were directed at him full force again.  He tried not to shift his weight.

“Not happening,” Addie said.

“Wow, nothing like leaving a little room for negotiation,” Dean said, grinning. Neither woman smiled back. _Jeez, tough crowd._

“Why do you need a witch?” Harper asked.

“My friend…he’s sick.  Dying, actually. We need someone powerful enough to cure him.”

“Take him to a hospital,” Addie said.

“Yeah…not that kind of sickness.  And he’s not…exactly…human.”  Okay, maybe he shouldn’t have said that last bit.  He shot a panicked look at Cas.

“What is he?” Addie demanded.

Shit.  Gabriel would _kill_ him. Dean cast around for something plausible but nothing came to mind.

“He is an angel,” Castiel said abruptly.  “Like me.”

Both girls stared disbelievingly at him.  “Prove it,” Harper suggested.

“Oh, for God’s sake,” Dean muttered. 

“You are Harper and Addie Montgomery, of Valdosta, Georgia,” Castiel said, his voice calm. “Harper is the elder at twenty four years old, and Addie is eighteen.  Your mother was killed by a witch when Addie was six, and your father drank himself to death within two years of that.  You vowed to hunt down and exterminate all witches and you have proven quite capable of doing so, with sixteen kills to your credit between you so far.

“Addie wants to be a librarian and suspects she is asexual.  You are, by the way.  Harper, you always wanted to go to art school but have put aside your dreams to be a hunter because you feel you owe it to your mother.  Oh, and you’re straight.”

The women were staring at him, mouths sagging open.

Harper found her voice first.  “How the _fuck_ did you know all that?”

“I told you,” Castiel said.  “Angel.”

“Where’s your wings and halo?” Addie challenged.

“You cannot perceive my wings, and halos are worn only by the saints in Heaven. Angels have no use for them.”

“Shit,” Harper breathed.  “You’re an _actual_ angel. I thought you guys were a myth!” There was awe in her voice.

“Can you fly?” Addie demanded.

Castiel nodded.

“What’s Heaven like?” Harper asked.

“So…getting the conversation back to finding these witches,” Dean said, suppressing a flare of irritation.  “Can we tag along when you’ve got a bead on their location?”

Harper glanced at him as if she’d forgotten he was there.  “I’ll think about it,” she finally said. 

Dean forced a smile.  “Great. Here’s my number. We’ll be waiting for your call. We’re at the Lucky 8 on the north side of Monterrey.”  He scribbled his cell number on the back of a gas receipt in his pocket and handed it to her, then turned on his heel and stalked back the way they’d come.  After a moment, he heard Castiel following. As soon as they were out of sight and earshot, Dean turned to him.  “Really, dude?”

Castiel looked confused.  “What’s the matter?”

“I thought you were keeping your existence a secret!” Dean hissed. “And here you go blabbing the whole thing to two chicks we don’t even know?  What the _hell_ is up with that?”

Castiel blinked, taken aback.  “I looked into their souls, Dean.  There is no deceit there. They are what I said they were; honest hunters seeking to rid the world of evil.  And I judged that the best way to get them to help us was to tell them the truth.  Was I wrong?”

“I guess we’ll see,” Dean bit out.  “Now get us the hell out of here.”

 

Dean was still fuming when they appeared in the motel room, and finding Sam nowhere in sight didn’t help.  Gabriel was asleep on the bed, white-faced and breathing in shallow gasps. Castiel went immediately to check on him while Dean pulled out his phone and called his brother.

“Where the fuck are you?” he hissed when Sam answered.

“Out,” Sam snapped.  “Getting some air.”

“Dammit, Sam, get your ass back here!  We’re being hunted by who the fuck knows what and you’re off on an lazy afternoon _stroll_?”  Dean stopped to think.  “Wait, is this because of Gabriel?  Did he say something to you?”

“He didn’t say anything.”  Sam sighed. “Well, he _did,_ but nothing more than the shit he always says.  It was more what he…you know what, forget it. I don’t want to talk about this.”

“Seriously, Sam, please get back here,” Dean said.  “I understand you’re upset, and we’ll figure it out, but I need you here with Gabe when we’re not around.  He’s in no shape to protect himself if something finds him.”

There was silence from the other end of the phone line.

“I’ll be there in about twenty minutes,” Sam finally said, and hung up.

Dean slid his phone into his pocket and sighed.  Castiel straightened and looked at him questioningly.

“He’s on his way back,” Dean said.  “How’s Gabe?”

“Much the same.  Sam changed his bandages this morning.”

“Good. I’m going to take a shower.” Dean kicked off his boots and grabbed a change of clothes from his bag.

Tired and sweaty from hiking up a mountain and grumpy from everything that had happened, he was entirely unprepared for his shower door to open and a naked Castiel to slide into the stall with him.

“What are you…”

Cas arched a brow at him and Dean shut up.  The angel picked up the soap and began to lather Dean’s arms and chest, his hands deft and sure.

Dean turned his face into the hot water and sighed.

“You deserve to be loved, Dean Winchester.”  Castiel’s voice was deep and gravelly and made Dean shiver.  “I would take you away for a month and worship your body with my hands and mouth every hour of every day of that month if I could.” His hand slid lower, skimming the head of Dean’s rapidly filling cock.  “I would keep you naked in bed and give you such pleasure that your throat would be raw from screaming my name.”

Dean shuddered violently and Castiel began to stroke him, sliding his wet hand up and down Dean’s shaft in a steady rhythm.  His thumb swept up over the glans and Dean gasped, hips jerking.

When Cas’s hand left him, Dean whimpered, opening his eyes, but the angel was only dropping to his knees.  Dean turned so the spray of water was hitting his back as Castiel opened his mouth and swallowed him down.

Dean slapped a hand against the tiles to brace himself, his knees buckling. Cas kept the suction steady, his tongue relentless against the head of Dean’s dick, sliding up and over and back to flick against the sensitive frenulum until Dean was moaning, begging for more. 

Only then did the angel pull back enough to wrap his hand around Dean’s penis and begin to stroke, all while his mouth continued the maddening tease.

“Cas…C-Cas…I can’t…” 

Castiel’s free hand came up and slipped behind Dean’s balls, teasing at his entrance. One finger slipped inside and Dean’s vision whited out as he came desperately hard, Cas swallowing around his cock until he was spent and shaking, his legs on the verge of giving out.

Only then did the angel pull away and look up at him, a smile in his eyes. Dean groaned and dragged him to his feet, kissing him roughly, tasting himself on his lover’s tongue.

“Thank you,” he whispered, burying his face in Cas’s neck.  “Didn’t know I needed that.”

Cas kissed his hair.  “Let’s get you rinsed off and then you can take a nap.”

“Mm. Like it here.  Think I’ll stay here.”

Cas huffed a laugh against Dean’s wet skin.  “I doubt you’re going to stay vertical for much longer.”  He turned the hunter into the spray and rinsed him off as Dean tried to distract him with kisses interspersed with yawns.

Finally Cas had them dried off and dressed, Dean far more interested in exploring every inch of the angel’s skin that he could reach than in actually getting their clothes on.

When they stumbled out of the bathroom, Sam was sitting on his bed staring at the still sleeping Gabriel.  He glanced up when they appeared but didn’t even lift an eyebrow.

“Sorry for taking off,” was all he said.

“S’okay, Sammy,” Dean said.  “I get it.” He patted his brother’s shoulder and collapsed onto his own bed with a happy grunt, shoving his face into the pillows.  “Gonna sleep now. We’ll talk later.”

“That’ll be fun,” Sam muttered, but Dean was already out.

Cas smiled at Sam. “You did a good job on Gabriel’s bandages this morning.”

The hunter lifted a shoulder.  “Been doing field dressings since I was eight years old.  I can do them in my sleep by now.”

“Still. They were well done. He is healing as well as we can expect.”

“But he’s _not_ healing,” Sam blurted, raising worried eyes to the angel’s.  “All we’ve done is slow down the inevitable.  What if…”

“We’ll figure this out,” Castiel told him, his voice firm.  “We’ll find the witches.  They’ll know what to do.”

Sam slid down until he was on his back next to Gabriel.  When he spoke it was in a lost whisper.  “I just hope we’re in time.”

 

Dean woke up late in the afternoon and filled Sam in on how he and Cas had spent their morning, describing Addie and Harper.  Sam listened intently, snorting at how dismissive of Dean the girls had been.

“Bet that threw you for a loop,” he said.

Dean scowled. “Shut up and get your shoes on. Dinnertime.”

“I don’t want to go out,” Sam protested.  “Can’t we order a pizza?”

“Nope. Shoes.  Now.”

Sam obeyed grudgingly while Dean told Castiel where they’d be and how long they’d be gone.

“Go, Dean. Gabriel and I will be fine,” the angel said.

Dean kissed him and the brothers left, heading down the busy street for the little cantina Sam had had his freakout in the previous day.  They didn’t speak until they were settled in a corner booth with no windows and a clear view of the door.

As soon as they’d ordered their food, Dean took a long pull of his beer and fixed his brother with a gimlet eye.  Sam fought not to squirm.

“Are we really doing this?” he asked.

“Yep,” Dean said, and his tone left no room for negotiation.

“What happened to you being allergic to feelings and especially talking about them?” Sam said.

“Look, I don’t want to be here any more than you do,” Dean snapped, “But you’re having a crisis and what kind of big brother would I be if I let you go through it alone?”

Sam moaned and dropped his face into his hands.

Dean’s voice was sympathetic above him.  “Sammy, I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me.”

Sam lifted his head and glared.  “I don’t think you can help me regardless, Dean, but thanks for playing.”

Dean just smirked.  “Sure about that? Ask me anything, Sammy, I promise I’ll give you a straight answer.  Well…for a given value of straight.”  He snickered into his beer.

Sam sighed and gave in.  “When did you realize you were bi?”

“About five seconds before I kissed Cas the first time,” Dean said immediately. “At least that’s when I admitted it to myself.  I’ve been attracted to men as much as women for as long as I can remember; I just did a damn good job of lying to myself about it.”

Sam considered.  “I’m not gay. I still like women. But I don’t think I’m really bisexual either.  I can’t think of a single man I’m attracted to, except…”  He trailed off.

“Except Gabriel,” Dean finished.

Sam nodded, staring into his beer.

“Angels do tend to trump sexual norms, don’t they?” Dean said, grinning.

“What do I _do_ , Dean?” Sam begged.

Dean shrugged and took another swallow of beer.  “That’s up to you.  Here’s a question for you, though. If Gabriel was in a female body, would you even be having this crisis right now?”

Sam sat back against the cracked vinyl seat.  “He’s abrasive, cocky, his sense of humor is _beyond_ wildly inappropriate, he’s way too convinced he’s hilarious, he drives me up the _wall,_ and-”

“And you’d have taken him to bed already if he had girl parts,” Dean finished.

Sam groaned and covered his face again.  “Oh God, I am so _fucked._ ”

Dean patted his shoulder.  “Not yet, little brother, but you’ll get there.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did mention it's a slow burn, right? (Sorry.) Hang in there, there's kissing coming up soon!


	4. Chapter 4

Sam woke up slowly the next morning, a gradual dawning of consciousness more than his usual snap into awareness.  He was warm and comfortable, which was why it took him several minutes to realize he had his arms wrapped around an archangel and his nose buried in Gabriel’s shoulder, and that Gabriel’s arm was draped across his back.

He told himself later that was also why he didn’t immediately fling himself off the bed in a panic.

Instead he stretched and rubbed his nose against bare skin, humming appreciatively. It smelled like lightning and ozone and chocolate with a faint coppery undertone and Sam couldn’t resist touching his tongue to the closest bit to see if it tasted as good as it smelled.

The arm across his back tightened convulsively and Sam froze, lifting his head. Through the curtain of his tousled hair he saw Gabriel staring up at him, eyes dark and wide.

“ _Shit,_ ” Sam whispered. “Did I hurt you?”

Gabriel swallowed hard and shook his head, letting his arm fall away so Sam could disentangle himself.  Sam eased back, sitting up and glancing around the room.  They were alone but it was still early morning.

“Where are they?” he asked.

It took more than one try for Gabriel to get his voice working.  “Breakfast.  Said they’d bring us back some.”

Sam nodded, stretching.  His back popped and he groaned in relief as he swung his legs over the side of the bed.

“Sam?” Gabriel’s voice was tentative.

Sam glanced over his shoulder.  The archangel was still on his back, watching him with cautious eyes.

“What?”

“Why aren’t you freaking out?” Gabriel said. 

Sam got up and retrieved the first aid kit, clambering back onto the bed and settling on his knees.

“I have to change your bandages,” he said, not meeting Gabriel’s eyes.

“But…”

“Shut up and stay still.”  Sam opened the kit and began pulling out gauze and medical tape.  His hands were a little unsteady as he teased the tape off the first injury, and he hoped the archangel hadn’t noticed.

Gabriel hissed and clutched Sam’s knee as Sam cleaned the wound.

“Sorry,” the hunter said, his attention on the gash that showed no sign of closing. “Almost done.”

“Take your time,” Gabriel said through gritted teeth.

Sam moved methodically, cleaning each site thoroughly but as quickly as he could. Gabriel was trembling and ashen-faced when he was done and Sam grimaced.

“Is there anything I can do?” he said and wished the words back as soon as they were spoken.

“Kiss it and make it better?” Gabriel suggested.  His eyes were closed, fighting the pain.

Sam didn’t laugh, though, or snap at him.  Instead he just looked at the man in front of him for a long time before saying in a careful voice, “Where does it hurt?”

Gabriel’s eyes snapped open and up to the hunter’s.  Sam met his gaze steadily and the archangel swallowed.

Finally, he touched the smooth, unmarked skin on his shoulder where Sam had tasted him earlier.

Sam’s lips quirked and he bent forward, his hair brushing Gabriel’s skin and making him shiver just as Sam’s mouth pressed against his shoulder. His tongue flicked out, teasing and investigating, and Gabriel gasped.

“Is that better?” Sam asked, pulling back enough to meet his eyes.

“A…little bit,” Gabriel managed.

“Anywhere else need attention?”  Part of Sam couldn’t believe he was doing this, but it was drowned by his desperate need to get his mouth on the angel in the bed next to him.

Gabriel hesitated, then tilted his head and tapped the side of his neck.

Sam leaned in and touched his throat with the tip of his tongue, tasting salt on his tongue. He licked a small swath and then sealed his lips over it, sucking just hard enough to bring blood to the surface. Gabriel arched underneath him, a desperate sound falling from his lips.

When Sam broke away, they were both breathing unsteadily.

“Anywhere…else?” Sam whispered.

Gabriel stared at him, pupils blown wide until only a thin stripe of brown showed around them.  Slowly, he brought his hand up and pressed the tip of his finger to his lips.

The air left Sam’s lungs with a whoosh and his mouth was on Gabriel’s before he remembered moving. Soft lips opened under his and tentatively, he slipped his tongue inside.  Gabriel moaned against him and Sam deepened the kiss, emboldened by the angel’s reaction.  Their tongues skimmed and slid against each other and the world fell away around them, narrowing down to lips pressed together and fingers tangled in hair.

Sam only broke the kiss when it became imperative to breathe, and he stared down at the archangel, panting for air. 

Gabriel watched warily, waiting for an explosion or a meltdown or _something._

He wasn’t prepared for Sam’s lips to twitch and then for him to begin to laugh, slowly at first but picking up speed until his shoulders were quaking and he was gasping for breath, pressing his forehead against Gabriel’s arm and almost howling with laughter.

Gabriel twitched his arm away.  “I’m _so_ glad I’m amusing,” he said icily.

Sam sat up, hiccupping and trying to stop the occasional giggles that kept breaking free. 

“Care to let me in on the joke?” Gabriel said.

Sam’s lips were twitching.  “ _Kiss it and make it better?_   Was that really the best line you could come up with?” Another bubble of laughter slipped out and Gabriel relaxed a little.

“It worked, didn’t it?” he said, grinning at the hunter.

Sam snorted his mirth.  “I guess it did, at that.” He was leaning forward to kiss the archangel again when the door burst open and Dean and Castiel came stumbling in. Cas was carrying an unconscious young woman covered in blood and another, darker haired woman was right behind them, streaked with more blood and her eyes frantic with worry.

Sam scrambled off the bed and Gabriel pushed himself upright with a grunt, ignoring the pain that rocketed through his abdomen.  Cas laid the girl on his and Dean’s bed and pressed two fingers to her forehead. After a moment he blinked and looked at Dean.

“I can heal her fully, but doing so will sap me enough that I cannot keep Gabriel at the level he needs to continue to function.”

“ _Heal her,_ ” the dark-haired girl snapped, but Sam stepped forward.

“Whoa, wait. Cas, don’t.  If you do, does that mean Gabe dies?”

The girl snarled and yanked a gun out of its holster, staggering backwards several steps so she could keep all four men in view.  “I said fucking _heal_ her, dammit!”

Sam held up his hands placatingly.  Dean sighed and sat down on the edge of Gabriel’s bed and Cas didn’t even look up, his attention focused on the unconscious young woman.

“Look,” Sam said, “You care about her, that’s obvious.  But I – we– care about _him._ ”  He gestured to Gabriel, who waved weakly. “If Cas fixes her, then he might die.   And I – _we_ , dammit – can’t live with that.  Please, just calm down and let’s figure this out.”

“Your sister will not die,” Castiel said.  He still hadn’t looked up.  “I have eased her pain and knit together the worst of her wounds, and she will heal.” Finally he glanced up. “I am sorry I cannot heal her fully, but it would mean my brother’s death, and I think you understand why I cannot face that.”

The girl looked between them, lip trembling, but finally she put the gun away and clambered onto the bed, holding her sister’s hand and ignoring the tears that were sliding down her face, making tracks through the grime and blood that streaked her skin.

Cas straightened and Dean was there to catch his arm and ease him to the bed next to Gabriel.

“I’m fine,” Cas said irritably.  “I need to check Gabriel now.”

He put his hand over Gabriel’s chest and the glow sprang up, curling almost lovingly around his fingers before snaking under Gabriel’s skin and dissipating, leaving his chest almost illuminated. 

Castiel sagged sideways, gasping, and Dean caught him with a muffled curse. “Dammit, Cas, if you run your angel batteries dry I will kick your ass.”  He helped the exhausted angel up and around to Sam’s side of the bed and eased him back down.  “Now rest, you idiot.” He leaned over and pulled Cas’s shoes off, then straightened and looked at Sam, who was staring at him.

“Dean, any chance you could let me in on what the _hell_ is going on?” Sam said through his teeth.

“Oh right, sorry!  Sam, Harper.” He gestured to the brunette. “And Addie is her sister. Harper, this is my brother Sam.”

Harper glanced up and nodded but said nothing.

“And this is Gabriel, our friend,” Dean continued.

“Charmed,” Gabriel drawled.

“Right. Uh, okay.  So, Harper called me while we were eating breakfast. They found the witches late last night and _didn’t call us._ ” He shot a glare at the brunette, who didn’t notice.  “They also apparently got their asses kicked for their troubles, and _that’s_ when they called us.  Cas went and got ‘em, and we brought them back here and now you’re up to speed.”

Sam grabbed the armchair and pulled it toward the bed.  Sitting down, he hunched his shoulders and put on his earnest face, smiling at Harper.  He caught a glimpse of Gabriel narrowing his eyes at him, but he didn’t look at the angel, focusing on the girl.  She was very pretty, he realized, huge dark brown eyes under all that dirt, a pert nose and full lips.

“So what happened?” he asked.

Harper shrugged.  “We found them. Killed one.  The other three nearly got us but I called Dean, and Castiel got there just in time.  Nothing else to tell.”

“So there are only three of them?  Where are they? Can you show us on a map? Was there anyone else there or just them? Are they male or female?”

Harper was looking dazed.  “I…I don’t know. I can try to show you if you have a map. They’re all women. I didn’t see anyone else.”

“Sam, let the girl rest,” Dean interjected.  “She’s had a rough morning.”

“She’s also our best chance at keeping Gabe alive,” Sam snapped. “We need to _find_ them.”

Dean laid a hand on his shoulder.  “We will, Sammy. We will.”

There was a choked noise from Gabriel’s bed and they looked up to see the archangel’s eyes rolling back as his body began to seize. 

“ _Shit!_ ”  Sam leaped up and grabbed him by the shoulder, rolling him onto his side as Gabriel’s body was wracked with convulsions.  Dean held onto the angel’s legs, keeping them loosely bracketed so he didn’t connect with anything.

Cas jerked awake, alarmed.

“Help him,” Sam panted.

Castiel put his hand on Gabriel’s forehead, frowning.  After a moment, he pulled it away.  “I can’t,” he said unhappily.  “Between healing him and Addie and bringing them back from the mountain, I have nothing left to give.  We will have to ride it out and pray he survives.”

Sam bit back a snarl.  Yelling at Castiel wouldn’t do any good.  He cupped Gabriel’s face with the hand not holding him steady on his side.  “Stay with me,” he whispered.  “You’re stronger than this, you can do this. C’mon, Gabe, please don’t leave me now.”

Gabriel’s eyes were closed, his head lolling with the spasms, but they seemed to be slowing.  Finally he lay limp and still, skin sickly pale and his lips tinged with blue.  Sam felt for his pulse.  It was steadying, still fast and thready but no longer as wildly erratic.

Sam eased him back into a prone position and straightened.  Turning, he strode out the door, but he was back in just a few minutes, shoving an armful of maps from the Impala at Harper.

“Show me where they are,” he said flatly.

Harper blinked and spread the maps on the bed, poring over them.  Sam stood above her, waiting.  Behind him he could hear Dean talking to Cas in a low voice but he didn’t bother to listen in.

“There,” Harper finally said, pointing.  “I think that’s where we were.  We’d spent the night outside Santa Catarina and headed west the next day. We’d been hiking most of the day and we’d set up for the night when we heard noises in the trees. Addie and I followed them and we found a clearing with the four of them in it.  There was a fire and they were sitting around it talking. It was dumb luck, really. I wanted to wait and call you but Addie was all for going in guns blazing.  They heard us arguing, Addie shot first, and shit got real.” She fell silent, blinking back tears.

Sam grabbed a pen and circled the area she’d pointed out.  Then he sat down and began pulling his boots on.

“Uh, Sam, a word?” Dean said.

Sam stood up and followed him outside.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Dean hissed.

“Going after them,” Sam said.  “Thought that much was obvious.  Cas is out of juice, so I’ll get there the old-fashioned way.”

“How will that help?” Dean demanded.  “Santa Catarina is at least four hours’ drive and from there you have a hike of at least a day ahead of you.  You don’t know where the witches actually _are;_ your plan seems to consist of blundering around like the girls did and hoping you stumble across them!”

“I’ll take Harper with me, and it’s better than sitting here doing nothing!” Sam snarled. He jerked away and shoved his hands through his hair.  He turned back, eyes anguished.  “I can’t…Dean, I can’t watch him die.”

Dean stared at him.  “Where is this coming from? Yesterday you couldn’t figure out if you wanted to kiss him or kill him yourself!”

“That was _before_ I kissed him!” Sam shouted, and slapped a hand over his mouth.  “Oh, shit.”

Dean’s jaw sagged.  “Are you…are you serious? You actually…”

“ _Yes,_ dammit! And I don’t know where this is going, I don’t know what I feel, but I do know that there's _something_ there with us. And I want the chance for that. But that can't happen if he's dead!”

Castiel appeared in the doorway of their room, incongruous in his trench coat and sockfeet. “Sam.  Dean.  Come back inside.” He vanished back into the room and both men sighed and followed him.

The angel stood in the middle of the room, exhausted and disheveled, glaring at them. “Sam, going after the witches on your own is futile.  Harper won’t leave Addie, and even if she were willing, as Dean has already pointed out, it would take nearly a full day.  It will be faster if you will both _shut up_ and stop yelling at each other so that I can rest.  Gabriel will not die in the next twelve hours.  When I am recovered, I will take you both there and we will find the witches together.  Is that an acceptable compromise?”

Sam glanced at Dean.  They both nodded silently, chastened.

“Good,” Castiel said.  “Now, I am going to sleep.” He lay back down next to Gabriel and closed his eyes.

Dean opened his mouth but Sam held up a finger.  He stalked over to the armchair between the beds and sat down, tugging it closer to Gabriel’s side of the bed, where the angel lay still unmoving. Sam put his arm on the bed next to Gabriel’s hand and then rested his head in the crook of his elbow with a sigh. It was going to be a very long twelve hours.

About two hours in, Harper went to the front desk and rented a room for Addie and herself, having been assured that she could move her sister without harm. They settled in there and Castiel reclaimed his bed with a relieved sigh, leaving Gabriel’s open for Sam while Dean cleaned his guns at the table by the window.

The hunter crawled onto the mattress and lay down on the covers, facing the archangel. There seemed to be no change in his condition; his breathing was labored and his skin had a waxy pallor to it.

Around noon, Dean stood up.  “I’m hungry,” he told Sam quietly.  “I’ll bring you back a burrito, yeah?”

Sam nodded and then he was alone with two sleeping angels.

“I have to say, I didn’t expect this level of devotion after just one kiss,” Gabriel whispered, and Sam jerked upright.

The archangel smiled up at him, a weak imitation of his usual cocky smirk. Sam’s heart hurt but he smiled back. “How are you feeling?”

“Like shit,” Gabriel said.  “How’s Castiel?”

“Tired. Asleep.  He’ll be fine; he’s resting and Dean went out for food.”

“The stuff that was in my pockets,” Gabriel said, trailing off.

“It’s on the dresser,” Sam said.  “Did you want it?”

Gabriel shook his head.  “No. It’s fine.  Just…there’s an old coin in with the rest of the junk…I’d like you to have it.  I thought of you when I saw it.  Thought you might appreciate it.”  He turned laboriously on his side and tugged at Sam’s hand.  “Get down here, Gigantor.  I’m getting a crick in my neck trying to see your face.”

Sam grinned and lay down facing him.  “Better?”

“An improvement,” Gabriel conceded, “But you could be closer.  Don’t want to shout and wake up Cas, after all.”

Sam wriggled closer, until he could feel the heat rising from Gabriel’s body. “How’s this?” he whispered. His nose was scant inches from the angel’s.

“Perfect,” Gabriel breathed, and closed the gap between them.

The kiss was achingly slow and gentle, with no destination in mind except learning each other’s mouths with lips and tongues, their fingers tangled together and resting between their bodies.

Finally Sam pulled back, drawing a shaky breath. 

“For never having kissed a man before, you’re doing a pretty fine job,” Gabriel said, quirking an eyebrow.

“It’s not like it’s that difficult a concept to grasp,” Sam pointed out. “I like to think I’m fairly adaptable.”

Gabriel grinned and pressed their lips together again.  Time spun out between them like warm caramel, sweet and sticky as they explored new territory.

Sam broke away again, struggling to keep his breathing steady.  “I want to do so much to you,” he whispered. “I want to take you apart and find out what makes you tick, then put you back together and do it all over again. I want to…I want to _know_ you, all over.  I’m going to learn every inch of you when you’re better.”

Gabriel closed his eyes and shivered.  “That…would be nice.”  His voice was empty, hopeless, and Sam pulled back enough to see his face.

“You don’t think you’re going to make it,” he said flatly.

Gabriel attempted a smile.  “We have to face facts, Sammy.  I can feel the taint in my blood dragging me down.  My wounds aren’t healing.  I can’t touch my grace. I’m dying, and I really don’t think a couple of witches in a forest in Mexico are going to be able to wave their magic wands and bibbidy-bobbidy-boo me out of this.”

“No.” Sam shook his head. “ _No_. You can’t think like that. I won’t let you.” He cupped the angel’s face and pulled him into a bruising, punishing kiss.

Gabriel gave as good as he got, gasping as Sam licked into his mouth, taking and claiming and _owning._

There were tears on Sam’s cheeks when he pulled away, and Gabriel’s mouth twisted. He reached up and brushed them away with his thumb.

“Don’t cry for me, Argentina,” he said.  “It’s been a helluva ride and I can’t think of a better way to go than kissing a gorgeous man.”

His eyes slid shut and Sam sucked in a startled breath.  “No.  _No._ ”  He patted Gabriel’s face and the angel’s head fell forward.  “ _No!_ Gabriel!  _Gabe!”_

Sam shoved the angel flat on his back, listening for a heartbeat and then straddling him to begin chest compressions.  “Cas! Castiel, _wake up!_ I need you, dammit, he’s not breathing!”

Cas jerked awake and took in the situation with a startled glance, lunging for Gabriel and pressing his hand to his forehead while Sam frantically pumped the angel’s chest, desperate to keep his heart beating.

“Please, please, please,” he chanted under his breath.

Castiel muttered something in Enochian and the glow sprang up around his hands. It flickered and sparked, fitful and weak, and Castiel growled, chanting louder.  The light strengthened slightly and sank into Gabriel, who drew in a weak breath and then coughed, his eyes still closed.

Sam put his ear to Gabriel’s chest, listening for the faint but steady heartbeat. Finally, he looked up at Cas, who nodded. 

“He’s stable for a little while longer,” the angel said.  “But Sam, you need to prepare yourself.  I fear I cannot keep him with us much longer. The taint has spread and he is succumbing.”

“No,” Sam whispered.  His lips were numb. “How long…?”

Castiel shrugged helplessly.  “I thought we had more time than we did.  At this rate, I would estimate…hours.”

Sam shook his head, rejecting the words.  Castiel put a hand on his shoulder in a vain attempt to comfort him and Sam knocked it away, staring down at Gabriel’s white face on the pillow.

Dean opened the door and stopped just inside, startled at the sight of Sam straddling the archangel.  “What the hell happened while I was gone?” he demanded.

“Gabriel is dying, Dean,” Castiel said, and Sam made a muffled noise behind his clenched teeth.  “He will not see nightfall.”

Dean dropped the bags of food and rushed forward, grabbing Sam’s shoulders and peering into his face.  Sam let him, looking dully up at his brother. 

“Sammy?” Dean’s voice was rough.

“I’m going to lose him, Dean,” Sam whispered.  “I didn’t even have him, and now he’s leaving me.  Just like Mom.  Just like Dad. Just like…Jess.” His face crumpled and Dean pulled him into his arms, cursing under his breath.

“Isn’t there anything we can do?” he demanded to Castiel, who lifted his hands helplessly.

“I’ve done all that I can do,” the angel said.  “I fear at the best of times my strength would be taxed by this, and after all we have done the past few days, I am at the limits of my endurance.”

Dean gritted his teeth and hugged Sam tighter.

They were standing like that when the witches walked through the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I mention I'm addicted to cliffhangers? It's a moral failing of mine.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting a day early to make up for Thursday's cliffhanger.

For one breathless moment, no one moved.  Then Dean tried to yank Sam off the bed and behind him just as Sam tried to draw his knife and put himself between Gabriel and the three women just inside the room. They struggled for a second until Dean let go and Sam ended up half-crouched over Gabriel’s motionless form, knife in hand, glaring at the women.

Dean’s hand closed on his pistol and the oldest witch, a striking woman in her early forties, lifted a hand. 

“Don’t,” she said.  “We come not to fight.” Her accent was strong and her English was broken but easily understandable.

“Then why _are_ you here?” Dean demanded. He stepped away from the bed into the center of the room, his hand still on the butt of his gun.

“You need our help,” the witch said.  “We are come to help you.”

“Why should we trust you?” Sam said.

Castiel moved to stand shoulder to shoulder with Dean as the witch sighed.

“ _Estupido gringos,_ ” she muttered to her companions, and pointed at Gabriel.  “He is dying, yes?  We have word you search for us, to heal him.” 

“But… _why?_ ” Sam asked, baffled. “Why would you help us?”

“Is what we do,” the youngest woman said.  She couldn’t have been more than sixteen, with a fierce scowl on her face and black hair pulled severely back that only served to accentuate her hawk-like nose.

“But…you gave Lindsey the chupacabra.  You’re evil,” Sam protested.

Esme blinked, startled.  “Who?” She looked at the other two women, rattling off an inquiry in Spanish.  Both shrugged their shoulders and Esme turned to Sam.  “Chupacabras are dark spirits and we would not allow such loose upon the world.  We are sworn to protect others.”

“Sam,” Cas growled.  “ _Be quiet_.”  He turned to the women.  “My brother is dying. We welcome whatever help you can offer.”

The leader stepped forward and Sam tensed.  Dean made a split-second decision and let go of his gun, moving to Sam’s side and gripping his arm.  “Trust Cas,” he murmured.

Sam sagged and swung his leg over, standing up and sheathing his knife.

“I am Esme,” the leader said.  “Bianca,” gesturing at the fierce teenager, “And Lupita,” pointing to the third witch, a dumpy woman in her thirties with a permanent smile on her round face.

Esme stepped forward and spread her hands over Gabriel’s torso an inch above his skin. She recoiled, hissing, and spoke in rapid Spanish to her comrades, whose faces tightened in distaste.

“He stink of demon,” Esme said accusingly.

“Yes,” Cas agreed.  “He escaped, but the taint in his blood is killing him and I have done as much as I can to cleanse it.”

The other two women moved forward to flank Esme, each placing a hand on her shoulder. The older woman flattened her hands above Gabriel’s chest again and began to chant in Latin.

Sam watched warily, Dean still holding his arm, but nothing seemed to happen. The chanting continued, Esme’s musical voice taking on a hint of vexation.  On the second repetition, Lupita joined in, weaving a counterpoint to her leader’s words.  Bianca waited for the third go-round before she added her high, pure voice to the litany.

It was almost hypnotic, Sam thought, and oddly beautiful.  But it didn’t seem to be doing any good.  The witches’ faces were getting taut with frustration but they didn’t stop, continuing to recite the Latin phrases over and over.

Dean released Sam and moved for the still open door.  No point in letting half of Mexico know what was going on in the room, after all.  He was swinging it shut when Harper burst inside, her gun drawn and pointed at Esme.

Dean dodged sideways and under Harper’s arm, shoving it up into the ceiling so that the gun discharged into the plaster.  Everyone else in the room ducked, but the witches didn’t stop chanting as Dean jerked the gun out of Harper’s hand, tossed it to Cas and in one smooth motion threw Harper over his shoulder and carried her out of the room.

She kicked and fought and screamed, but Dean didn’t put her down until he was at the end of the corridor and around the building, out of sight. Then he let her slide off and shoved her against the wall when she tried to dodge past him. He blocked the knee to his crotch with a well-placed thigh and snarled at her.

“Be _still_!  I’m trying to help you!”

“They’re evil, they’ll kill your friend and then they’ll finish the job they started on Addie!” Harper panted. 

“Cas says they’re not.  _Listen,_ Harper, my angel says they’re _not_ evil! He looked into your soul and knew you, didn’t he?  He did the same to them. They really are here to help! Goddammit, stop fighting me and listen!”

Harper froze, tears standing in her dark eyes. 

Dean took pity on her.  “Look, the witches that killed your mother were obviously evil bitches and needed to die. But these?  They’re, I dunno, white witches or something. They’re on our side. You can’t hurt them.”

“They hurt Addie,” she whispered.

“Because you attacked them,” Dean pointed out.  “You said yourself that Addie went in swinging.  They were defending themselves.”

The fight drained out of the young woman and she squeezed her eyes shut. “We killed one of them,” she whispered.

“Yeah…they’re probably not going to be terribly thrilled to see you,” Dean said. “Is Addie able to move?”

Harper nodded.  “She can walk, but not far. She still has several broken ribs.”

“Okay,” Dean said, coming to a quick decision.  It wasn’t like he was needed inside the room.  “Go get her.  I’m taking you and her to another motel where you’ll be out of range of their broomsticks or whatever.”

 

Sam’s head came up at the familiar rumble of the Impala and he glanced at Cas, whose face was as serene as ever.  Well, if the angel wasn’t worried, he wouldn’t be either.

Esme broke off her chant and stumbled backward a step, panting for air. The other two caught her arms, steadying her, as she shook her head.

“The taint…it runs deep.  Too deep for we to cleanse. I am sorry.”

“No,” Sam said.  “No, there has to be _something_ you can do. _Please._ ”

Esme looked at his face, vulnerable and desperate, and there was pity in her eyes. “You care much for him, yes?”

Sam swallowed, hesitating, then nodded.  “Yes, I…care.  Very much.”

“There may be one thing,” Esme said slowly.

“Esme, _no!_ ” Lupita interrupted.

The eldest witch held up a hand, cutting off the flow of words.  “It must be his choice.  We put it to him.”  She looked at Sam. “It is _muy_ dangerous.  You risk much if you agree to this.”

“Will he die if I don’t?” Sam asked.

Esme nodded.

Sam set his jaw.  “Do it.”

“You do not know what you say,” Lupita protested, but Esme lifted her hand again, looking hard at Sam’s face.

“I think…he does.”

Lupita glanced at Sam and back at Esme, then sighed and nodded.

“Lie down on the bed and give me your hand, senor,” Esme said.  “What is your name?”

“Sam Winchester,” Sam said, obeying.  “This is Gabriel.”

Esme took his hand and joined it with Gabriel’s.  Sam’s stomach lurched.  The archangel was so still and white that if it weren’t for the weak, rapid pulse in his wrist, Sam would have said he was already dead.

“This will hurt,” Esme warned.  “You must embrace the pain, let it flow through you.  It is…river, you are riverbanks, _si_?”

“Si. Yes.”  Sam nodded, showing a confidence he didn’t feel. He was no stranger to pain, but that didn’t mean he _liked_ it.

Cas had watched the whole exchange with a worried look on his face. Now he set his hand on Sam’s shoulder. “Be sure, Sam,” he said. “This is not done lightly.”

Sam looked up at him.  “If I don’t make it, take care of Dean.”

Cas’s hand tightened.  “I will,” he promised, and he stepped back.

Sam rested his head on the pillow, gripping Gabriel’s lax hand tighter and nodding at Esme.  “Let’s get this done.”

The three women took up posts around the bed, fierce young Bianca on Sam’s left, sweet-faced Lupita on Gabriel’s right and serene Esme kneeling between the two men on the bed.  She placed both her hands on Sam and Gabriel’s as the other two women gripped her shoulders and they began to chant again.

Sam closed his eyes.  He wished suddenly he were still a praying man.  He was lightheaded, feeling like he was floating.  He held onto Gabriel as the witches’ tone changed and they started a different incantation.

A fire seemed to ignite under Sam’s skin and he twitched.  At first it was only a distracting buzz, but the heat was building, stoking hotter and hotter throughout his nervous system. Sam’s mouth fell open and he dragged in air like a drowning man, his chest heaving. Still the fire grew, until Sam’s back arched off the bed, only his feet and shoulders touching the mattress, and he began to scream.

The pain roared through him, scouring, hollowing him and excoriating him from the inside out.  He was shaking apart, shattering into a million pieces.  _This was how he would die_ , Sam realized with a sudden awful clarity, and in that moment he let go of everything.  His fears, his worries, his terror of losing Gabe before he’d begun to have him; all of it swept away on the tidal wave cascading through him and suddenly the pain was gone, like a switch had been flipped.

He collapsed back onto the bed like a puppet with cut strings, boneless and unable to move. His throat was raw from screaming, he realized distantly.

The witches had fallen silent and Sam blinked, struggling to focus. Someone was speaking; no, shouting. Dean, Sam thought. Dean was yelling his name.

Esme said something and then Dean was on his knees next to the bed, holding Sam’s free hand.  There were tears on his face.

“Sam. _Sammy._ Please God, be okay. Please, please don’t die.”

Sam worked moisture into his mouth.  “I’m okay,” he whispered.

Dean dropped his head to the mattress and sobbed once.  Then he looked up, eyes angry.  “What the _fuck_ possessed you?” he snarled.  “I’m so glad you’re not dead, Sammy, because I’m going to fucking _kill you._ ”

Sam almost managed a laugh but he was too exhausted.  “Gabe…” he breathed.  “Is he…”

Esme leaned into Sam’s field of vision.  “You did well, young one.  Gabriel will heal because of you.”

Sam managed, with a Herculean effort, to turn his head.  Gabriel was looking at him, his golden-brown eyes full of wonder and grief.

Sam smiled. “Hey,” he whispered.

“Oh Sam,” Gabriel murmured, and his voice was full of sorrow.  “What have you done?”

Sam’s brow furrowed.  _What did that mean?_   As he was trying to figure it out, sleep took him and he sank into the dark with a grateful sigh.

 

“ _Gabe!_ ”  Sam bolted upright, looking around wildly. The room was much darker and he was alone in the bed. 

Dean started, woken from his doze in the chair next to the bed.

“Easy, bro, you’re okay,” he said.  He leaned over and felt Sam’s forehead, sighing with relief when it was cool to his touch.

“Where is he, where’s Gabe?” Sam asked.

“Right here, Sammy,” a familiar voice drawled, and Gabriel sauntered out of the bathroom, drying his hands.  He winked at the hunter and Sam sighed, collapsing back against the pillows.

“I gotta hand it to you,” Gabriel continued, tossing the towel in the bathroom’s general direction and sitting down on the bed next to the taller man. “You give your brother a run for his money in the self-sacrifice department.  Really, it’s kind of adorable.”

Sam glanced around the room.  “Dean, where’s Cas?”

“He’s with Harper and Esme.  Esme insisted on speaking with the girls and Harper wanted someone with the strength to stop a witch from putting the smackdown on them if necessary.  Still, she’s kind of feeling the guilt about killing someone who wasn’t actually evil.”

Gabriel glanced at Sam and then at Dean.  “Deano, what do ya say to going out and getting us some food?  I’m starving and I’ll bet Sammy here could eat a horse.”

Dean arched an eyebrow, looking between the two men, and then got the hint and hastily stood up.  “Sounds good. I’ll be back, uh…later.”

Silence fell as Dean shut the door behind him.

Sam regarded Gabriel, who seemed willing to look at anything but the man on the bed.

“So this has been a pretty wild week, hasn’t it?” Gabriel said, his tone cheerful. “Sorry to drag you into my whole mess like that; I didn’t exactly intend to drop you in the soup. It just sort of happened. Although it worked out, I guess, so there’s that.”

“Gabe.” Sam’s voice was gentle but implacable.

The angel wetted his lips, shifting his weight. 

“Let me see,” Sam said, sitting up and folding his long legs under him.

Gabriel sighed and lifted the t-shirt – one of Dean’s from the way it hung a little on the slimmer man’s frame – so that Sam could examine his torso. The hunter leaned forward and drew a finger along the thin scars that covered most of Gabriel’s chest, and the angel shivered.

“I’m not going to be winning any bikini pageants anytime soon, I know,” he said, aiming for light and missing by a mile.

Sam glanced up at him.  “You’re completely healed? All of it?  The corruption is out of your blood?”

Gabriel nodded.

“What about your grace; can you reach it again?”

“Sort of. It’s coming back slowly. I can probably heal a bruise, if you have any you want gone.”

“But it _will_ come back fully?” Sam asked, his eyes anxious.

“Yes,” Gabriel said, dropping the t-shirt. 

Sam’s fingers loosely circled the angel’s wrist, his thumb stroking over Gabriel’s pulse point.

Gabriel shivered and tried to pull away.  “Keep that up and a guy might get the wrong idea,” he said, but Sam just arched an eyebrow and held on.

“Or maybe the right idea,” the hunter said, his voice low and smoky.

“Sam, stop,” Gabriel said, and there was a hint of panic in the words.

Sam let go immediately and Gabriel stood up, taking several steps away.

“What is it?” Sam said.  “Did I hurt you?”

Gabriel shook his head, rubbing his face.  “No. Nothing like that. I don’t…dammit, Sam, I don’t know how to tell you this.”

“Generally just coming right out with it tends to work,” Sam observed, pushing the hint of worry away.

“You don’t know what you did,” Gabriel said.  “You thought you were saving my life, which I appreciate, I really do, but what you didn’t grasp is just what saving it entailed.” 

“You’re alive,” Sam said.  “That’s pretty much all I care about.”

Gabriel groaned.  “You don’t get it.”

“So fucking _tell me_ ,” Sam snapped. “Stop beating around the bush and use your words, dammit!”

“ _They bound our souls together, Sam!”_ Gabriel shouted.

Silence fell as they stared at each other.

Sam shifted on the bed.  Gabriel spun on his heel, clenching his fists.

“Okay,” Sam said cautiously.  “So what does that…mean?”

“It means that no matter where you go, I’ll be able to find you,” Gabriel said. “It means that if either of us is hurt, the other will feel it.  It _means_ that you’re tied to me, Sam, whether you want to be or not!” 

“I’m…not really seeing why you’re so upset,” Sam said.  He stood up and the shorter man hunched his back, tensing as Sam approached but standing his ground.

Sam slid a hand down Gabriel’s spine, enjoying the way the angel leaned into it, probably without even realizing what he was doing.

“So I guess that means I can do this whenever I want?” Sam said and dropped his hand lower.

Gabriel caught his wrist, spinning around.  There was thunder in his eyes.  He crowded into Sam’s space, forcing him backwards until the backs of Sam’s knees hit the bed and he sat down hard.

The next instant he had an angry archangel in his lap, their mouths crashing together with brutal force, teeth and tongues colliding, hands fisting in his hair. Sam opened up willingly, allowing Gabriel to take what he seemed to need until the angel jerked back, a hand over his mouth and horror in his eyes.

He scrambled off Sam’s lap.  “I can’t…this isn’t you, Sam,” he whispered.  “You don’t want this. I can’t ask this of you, and you wouldn’t want it if I did.”

Sam just stared at him, mouth hanging open.  There was a flap of massive wings and the archangel was gone, leaving Sam alone, hard and aching.

He flopped back on the bed with a groan.  _Perfect._

 

The worst part was that he always knew where Gabriel was.  Not his exact location, but if he concentrated, he could orient himself and point in an unerring line at wherever the archangel happened to be at the time.

Harper joined their little team, Addie having decided to stay behind in the mountains of Nuevo Leon and apprentice herself to Esme in an attempt to work off the blood-debt she owed.  Sam found he liked Harper a lot.  She was quick to laugh, ready with a joke or a wry comment to diffuse the tension whenever he and Dean butted heads, which seemed to be often these days. More often than not, Harper and Sam teamed up, hunting vampires and werewolves, digging up graves in the middle of the night and salting and burning bones.  Sam still snorted with laughter thinking about the time Harper had whipped out marshmallows to toast over the bones that were going up in flames.

They crisscrossed the country, but Sam always had a hollow feeling under his breastbone; a niggling sensation that something was missing.  More often than not, that something was a pair of mischievous brown eyes and a quirky smile, but Sam pushed that away and tried not to think about it too often.  He was happy, he told himself, even when he crawled into an empty bed and dreamed of caramel and peanuts, of bad jokes and cheesy pickup lines and slow, sweet kisses. And he kept Gabriel’s tiny pocketknife and the ancient coin, often rubbing his thumb over the latter inside his pocket where no one could see, the raised lines of the engravings giving him a small measure of comfort in his loneliness.

He tried calling for the angel, of course.  He pulled out all the stops; Payday bars (king size), lollipops, éclairs and anything else that might conceivably catch the eye of an archangel with a sweet tooth. He prayed, over and over, begging Gabriel to answer, to come talk to him, but there was never a response of any kind and eventually Sam gave up.

Dean knew there was something wrong.  He watched him when he thought Sam couldn’t see him, worry lines creasing his forehead. He and Cas held secret conferences, complete with plenty of arm-waving and eventual shouting on Dean’s part, and implacable arm-folding and stony faces from Castiel.  Sam had a good idea what they were fighting about but he didn’t care, as long as they left him alone and didn’t bring it up around him.

About four months into working with Harper, she tried to kiss him. They’d just cleaned out a nest of vamps that didn’t take kindly to being eradicated and had fought back with an impressive skillset.  Seemed their leader was ex-military and took regimental discipline very seriously.

Afterwards, covered in blood that was (mostly) not theirs, Sam and Harper collapsed in the grass outside the rickety old farmhouse, panting for breath, still riding the adrenaline surge.  Harper cracked a joke, Sam started laughing, and Harper rolled over and put her lips to his.

Sam froze. Harper’s mouth was warm and inviting, her body soft where it pressed against his arm.  Sam found himself unable to move, afraid to push her away but finding no interest in prolonging the embrace.

Harper was a smart girl.  She pulled back almost immediately and sat up on her heels, looking at him in the dim moonlight with…was it _pity?_

Sam wanted to growl or throw something.  He didn’t need pity.  He was a grown man capable of making his own decisions, dammit; he did it every day.

“Still?” Harper said gently.  “It’s been a long time since Mexico.”

“Pretty sure this is a forever thing,” Sam muttered, unable to meet her eyes.

Harper sighed.  She leaned forward and Sam tensed, but all she did was drop a light kiss on his forehead. “Come on,” she said. “Moon’s not getting any brighter and this torch I’ve been carrying for you won’t light our way.” She stood up and held out her hand, tugging Sam to his feet.

He gazed down at her, not sure what to say, and Harper smiled up at him.

“It’s okay, Sam.  I’m a big girl. Takes more than a little rejection to get me down.”  She slipped an arm around his waist and hugged him before turning for their car. Neither of them was expecting the vampire that launched itself from the shadows, fastening its teeth in Sam’s neck, ripping and shredding as the hunter staggered back under its weight.

Harper screamed his name and then the vampire’s head was gone. Harper had taken it off with one clean slice of her machete, calculating her range perfectly to miss Sam’s own head by scant millimeters.

Sam stumbled and sat down hard, grabbing his throat.  He could feel the blood fountaining up, hot and sticky as it gushed over his hands.  He coughed wetly, spitting black in the moonlight, and collapsed backward in a boneless heap on the grass.

Harper fell to her knees beside him, yanking her t-shirt off and slicing it into ragged strips with her blade.  She started trying to wrap it around his neck, but Sam caught her hand. It was useless and he knew it.

Harper was sobbing, still trying to stop the bleeding.  “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” she was saying through her tears.

Sam reached up and cupped her cheek, unable to speak, trying to convey forgiveness and acceptance through his touch. The pain was gone, which was a bad sign, he knew. He couldn’t bring himself to care.

He closed his eyes.  Maybe there would be a brown-eyed angel in his heaven, waiting to welcome him home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is that...could it be...another cliffhanger?? 
> 
> I'm just gonna start running now while y'all grab your pitchforks and flaming torches.
> 
> (I think this is the last major cliffhanger before the story is resolved, but if you don't want to miss any updates, you can just subscribe to the story or to me as an author. And to make up for this particularly mean chapter, I'll post the next update early, I promise. PLEASE DON'T KILL ME.)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To make up for the brutal cliffhanger at the end of the last chapter, and because my a/c is currently busted and I FEEL LIKE IT, have the next chapter. 
> 
> Heed the explicit warning, gentle readers - there be lots and lots of porn in this one. (Is it enough for y'all to forgive me for yanking you around so much with chapter 5?)

When Sam opened his eyes, he was warm and dry, his throat whole under his tentative fingers.  He lay in a massive feather bed on a dais at one end of the largest log cabin he’d ever seen. Bear and sheepskin rugs covered the hardwood floors and a fire crackled merrily in the hearth next to the bed.

Sam sat up and the angel seated cross-legged at the far end of the mattress straightened his back, meeting Sam’s eyes.

“Am I…is this Heaven?”

Gabriel rolled his eyes.  “No, you enormous idiot, it’s Montana.  Although I can understand the confusion; it _is_ pretty gorgeous out here.”  He hopped off the bed and headed for the kitchen at the far end of the room.  “I have hot chocolate,” he said over his shoulder. “Get your lazy ass out of bed and I might even be willing to make you some.”

Sam caught him before he’d gotten ten feet, both long arms wrapping around the angel from behind.  He buried his nose in the nape of Gabriel’s neck as the angel froze mid-step.

“I missed you,” Sam whispered, inhaling the chocolate and rainstorm scent of Gabriel’s skin.  _He didn’t smell like blood this time_ , a part of Sam’s brain noted.

Gabriel didn’t move. Sam pressed a kiss to his neck, nibbling and tasting down to his shoulder and back up to his jawline. Gabriel groaned, dark and desperate, and then he turned in Sam’s arms and their lips met for the first time in months.

Sam kissed like a man possessed, fingers sliding into Gabriel’s hair to hold him still while Sam devoured his mouth, his entire world the angel in his embrace.

Gabriel welcomed him in and Sam delighted in the wild slide of tongue and lips, the nips of teeth and the tiny whimpers and moans that were escaping the angel’s throat.  Sam took it all, forceful and demanding, hot and needy and _wanting._

He ground his denim-clad erection against Gabriel’s hip and the angel shuddered.

“On…second thought…” Gabriel gasped into Sam’s mouth, “Maybe…the hot chocolate…can wait.”

Sam smiled and pushed him down on the bearskin rug at their feet. Gabriel sprawled backward with a grunt, catching himself on his elbows, and Sam crawled up his body, eyes dark with intent.

He stopped at Gabriel’s belt, fumbling with the buckle, and jerked back in surprise when Gabriel snapped his fingers and they were both suddenly naked.

“Okay…that’s a nice party trick,” Sam observed.

Gabriel grinned up at him.  “Haven’t had occasion to use it recently.”

That was the wrong thing to say.  Sam’s eyes grew stormy and he pulled his hands away from Gabriel’s bare skin, looming over him.

“Where the _fuck_ did you go?” he snarled. “Do you know what it did to me, you leaving me like that, not even giving me a chance to tell my side of the story? It wrecked me, Gabe! I was a _shell,_ pretending I was normal but missing you so much it was like there was a hole in my ribcage and sometimes I wanted to just double over from the pain, wanting you, _needing_ you, knowing that you hadn’t believed me when I said that and weren’t even interested in me in the first place!  What the fuck is _wrong with you?_ ”

“I was-” Gabriel tried to say, but Sam clamped a huge hand over his mouth.

“Shut the fuck up and let me finish.  You took off. You just assumed your side of the story was the _only_ side worth telling, and you left me.  How could you?”

Gabriel floundered for words, something that didn’t happen to him very often. He opened his mouth and closed it. Sam lifted an eyebrow, waiting.

Gabriel sighed and snapped his fingers again.  This was a conversation that called for clothes.  Sam glanced down at his jeans and flannel shirt and then sat back on his heels, his eyes steady on the angel’s face.

Gabriel fidgeted, twining his fingers in the rug.  “You…pitied me, Sam, because you have a huge heart and I was injured; you took care of me.  It’s what you do. But this…you didn’t sign up for this. I took advantage of you. Which, okay, is kind of what I _do_ and I’m okay with that aspect of myself.  If it had just been us, and I was healed and you wanted to have some fun, I’d have been totally down for that.”

Sam hadn’t moved, his eyes fixed on Gabriel’s.

“Dammit, you’re not making this easy.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, should I be?” Sam said.  “Did I sign the Make Gabriel’s Life Easier contract while I was asleep? Because I sure as hell don’t remember doing that.”

“Okay, smartass, you’ve made your point,” Gabriel snapped.

“Have I? Because from where I sit, all you’ve done is run away.  Made your own life easier as much as you can and to hell with anyone else.  Did you stop to think about me at all?  Did it _ever_ occur to you that I should have a vote in this?”

Gabriel squirmed.  He wasn’t used to people challenging him and his usual defense tactics weren’t holding up.

Sam leaned forward.  “I don’t have a Florence Nightingale complex, Gabriel.  I didn’t kiss you because you were injured and I felt badly for you; Christ, how little do you think of me, anyway?”

Gabriel opened his mouth but Sam wasn’t finished.

“I kissed you, you _ass_ , because I’m attracted to you.  Because God help me, I _wanted_ you. I _still_ want you, dammit, despite the fact that you’re a massive dickhead!Because in spite of everything, _I’m in love with you_!”

Gabriel couldn’t remember how to close his mouth, or draw in oxygen. He stared at the tall man in front of him, lost for words for the first time in thousands of years.

Sam shoved his hands through his hair, growling in frustration. “I don’t need a soul bond with you to know that,” he said, his voice calmer.  “I was headed that way like a runaway train _before_ I saved your life, and this…well, being bonded with you is just a bonus, way I see it.”

Gabriel finally managed to drag his mouth shut.  He closed his eyes.  He felt…humbled, a new sensation for him. 

“Tell me this,” Sam said.  “Does this bond tell you how I’m feeling?”

Gabriel shook his head.

“Because on my side of things, I always know where you are.  I could find you anywhere in the world.  You stubbed your toe last week and got a splinter a few days ago. I’m assuming that’s how it works for you too, since I’m alive and not vampire chow.  But I’m looking right at you and I have no idea what you’re thinking or feeling.  Is it the same for you?”

Gabriel nodded silently.

“So why,” Sam demanded, “Would you think that this has influenced how I feel about you?”

Gabriel opened his mouth and shut it again.  “When you put it that way,” he admitted, “It makes me look like kind of a chump.”

“ _Kind of?_   Sure, in the same way that the Dead Sea is _kind of_ salty!”  But there was the hint of a smile on Sam’s face. 

Quiet descended, broken by the crackles of the fire and the logs shifting.

“I think…I’d like that hot chocolate now,” Sam said.

Gabriel looked up, startled.  Sam was smiling at him, head tilted.  

The angel cleared his throat.  “Uh, okay. Yeah, I can do that.” He scrambled to his feet and Sam followed him across the room to the kitchen, settling on one of the stools snugged up under the bar with his back to the counter and hooking his large feet on the rung.

Gabriel pulled out a saucepan and the ingredients and turned the stove on, setting the milk and cocoa powder next to the pan.

“Couldn’t you just snap some into existence?” Sam inquired.

“I could,” Gabriel agreed, “But half the fun of hot cocoa is the process.”

Sam hummed a noncommittal response.

Gabriel busied himself with heating the milk, but he could _feel_ Sam’s eyes on him, a hot gaze that seemed to burrow right through the angel into his core.  He shivered.

“Stop that,” he said in a low voice, his eyes on the stove.

“Stop what?” Sam asked, innocence personified.

“Stop _looking_ at me like that, or I’m going to burn the milk.”

“That would be a tragedy,” Sam agreed.  He didn’t move.

Gabriel measured the cocoa out, but halfway through his brain stalled. Was that three or four tablespoons? All he could think about was Sam, watching him, _wanting_ him.

“That was four,” Sam said helpfully, and Gabriel had had enough.

He had just enough presence of mind to push the milk off the burner before he dropped the cocoa on the counter with a clatter and Sam was off the stool and across the floor, meeting him halfway in a hot rush of grappling hands and mouths. Sam grabbed him by the hips, lifting him up so Gabriel could lock his legs around the hunter’s waist. From this angle, he was able to lean down and take Sam’s mouth, licking and sucking at the hunter’s willing lips, taking control and directing the kiss.

Gabriel tightened his legs, rubbing his erection against Sam’s abdomen, and the hunter groaned.

“Bed,” he managed to say between kisses.

Gabriel lifted his head and grinned down at him.  “Better get us there, then.”

Sam narrowed his eyes and stretched up for another kiss, then stumbled out of the kitchen, heading in the vague direction of the bed.  He tripped over a rug because Gabriel’s tongue was doing distracting things to his earlobe, but righted them and finally made it, collapsing onto the mattress with a triumphant sound, Gabriel on top of him with his legs still firmly around Sam’s waist.

“Thank God for open floor plans,” Sam gasped.

Gabriel looked up, eyes dazed.  “Thank me, actually. Dad had very little to do with designing this place.”

Sam snorted a laugh.  “Hey, you think you could do that snappy thing again?  Or did you want me to undress you with my teeth?”

Gabriel groaned, pressing his forehead to Sam’s shoulder.  “You’re going to kill me, I hope you know that.” He freed a hand and snapped his fingers and Sam gasped at the cool air rushing across bare skin.

“We’ll do the teeth thing another time,” Gabriel promised, and sat up. He was straddling Sam’s torso and he could feel the hunter’s hard cock nudging his ass. 

Sam looked up at him, eyes open and trusting, huge hands splayed on the angel’s thighs.

Gabriel took a deep breath, centering himself.  Then he reached back and wrapped a hand around Sam’s shaft and began to stroke.

Sam’s hands bit down hard on Gabriel’s legs.  He was going to bruise, Gabriel knew, but he didn’t care. He was too lost in watching the man beneath him fall apart, his head thrown back, gasps and moans falling from his mouth as his hips bucked up into Gabriel’s fist.

The angel was so hard he was aching, but batted Sam’s hand away when the hunter tried to reach for him. 

“You,” he panted.  “…For you.” _When was the last time he’d been reduced to fragmented sentences?_ a tiny part of his brain wondered, but Gabe was too consumed with lust to care.

Sam was thrusting against his hand harder, his eyes locked on the angel’s, and his thighs were beginning to tremble as his hips lost their rhythm.

“Yes,” Gabriel whispered.  “Come on, Sam, let me see it.”

Sam’s back arched and he came hard and hot over Gabriel’s hand, shaking and crying out. The angel eased him through it, then leaned forward and captured Sam’s mouth, kissing him deep and slow.

Sam sighed against him, body lax. 

“Okay?” Gabriel said.

Sam nodded. “So much more than okay. Now get up here.” He tugged on Gabriel’s hips until the angel scooted himself forward, sitting on Sam’s broad chest instead of his hips. Sam grinned up at him, then lifted his head and opened his mouth and –

“ _Oh_ ,” Gabriel said, his head falling back.  Sam’s mouth was hot and wet and he took half of Gabriel’s length down with one smooth motion, hollowing his cheeks and sliding his tongue up the underside of the angel’s cock.

Sam brought his knees up, feet flat on the bed, and Gabriel braced his hands on them gratefully, struggling to keep from fucking into Sam’s mouth.

Sam hummed and the vibrations rippled through Gabriel, making him groan.

“You’re…gonna…kill me,” he gasped again.  He wasn’t going to last.  This was embarrassing. His hips were already stuttering and he was trembling, balancing the razor edge of orgasm.

Sam flicked his tongue against Gabriel’s slit and that was it, the angel was done. He spilled over Sam’s tongue, shuddering desperately, and the hunter swallowed him down, eyes closed in concentration as he made sure he caught every last drop.

Wrung dry, Gabriel had just enough presence of mind not to collapse on Sam’s head. He tilted off to the side, landing face down in the mattress with a thump.  He could hear the hunter laughing as he wriggled out from under and crawled up alongside him, draping one long arm over his ribcage.

Gabriel managed to open one eye.  Sam smiled at him from a few inches away and leaned in for a kiss.

“That was…” Dammit, what was it about this man that made Gabriel lose his brain function?

Thankfully, Sam seemed to understand.  “Yeah. Me too.”

Gabriel closed his eyes again.  Peace washed through him, taking away the worry and uncertainty, the pain of being alone. He was whole for the first time in a thousand years.  He spiraled into sleep with a smile on his face.

 

When he woke up, he was alone in the bed.  He stretched and sat up, yawning, to see Sam in the kitchen, his back to him. The hunter had pulled on his jeans but left his shirt off, and Gabriel’s mouth watered at the sight of all that skin on display, those well-muscled shoulders.

“Now that’s a sight I could get used to,” he drawled.

Sam flashed a grin at him over his shoulder.  “Hungry?”

“Starved,” Gabriel said, dropping his voice to a purr.  “Oh wait, did you mean for actual food?”

Sam began to laugh and Gabriel grinned, reveling in the deep, honest pleasure of hearing Sam happy.

“Your pickup lines are the _worst,_ man! How’d you ever get laid before you met me?”

“Oh, I muddled through,” Gabriel said, slipping out of bed and padding across the floor stark naked to press himself up against Sam’s back.

Sam relaxed against him.  “You feel good.”

“I can feel better,” Gabriel said, and Sam laughed again.

“Stop it or you’re going to have me giggling too hard to get it up, dammit.”

“Is that a challenge?” Gabriel murmured.  He pulled Sam’s arm until the hunter was facing him and then dragged his head down. The kiss was tender, gentle and almost wondering, as if he couldn’t really believe Sam was there with him, _kissing_ him.

Sam broke away with a curse, spinning around to the stove.  He flipped the chicken sizzling there and dialed the heat down, turning back to Gabe with an apologetic smile.  “Where were we?”

Gabriel hopped up on the counter, beckoning Sam to him.  The hunter obeyed, stepping between Gabriel’s legs so that he could wrap them around Sam’s hips.

Their faces were almost exactly level this way and Gabriel took full advantage of that, exploring Sam’s naked torso with hands, lips and tongue while the hunter’s head fell back.  He closed his mouth around a nipple and Sam gasped, grabbing Gabriel’s head.  “Fuck!  What are you doing to me?”

“Everything I’ve dreamed about for years,” Gabriel whispered against the hunter’s damp skin.

Sam tightened his grip in Gabriel’s hair, pulling him back enough that he could look him in the eye. “Years?”

Gabriel quirked an eyebrow.  “What can I say, Sammich? You’re like catnip to me. Always have been.”

Sam looked awed, lost for words.  “Gabe…”

“Shut up and kiss me, Bigfoot.”

Sam obeyed willingly and Gabriel arched into it.  When the timer on the stove dinged, Sam groaned, pulling away with extreme reluctance to put the chicken on plates and add the vegetables and sauce.

They settled cross-legged on the floor near the fire where they had a view out one of the floor to ceiling windows.  Snow blanketed the ground outside as far as they could see.  Tall mountains ringed them on all sides and the cabin was the only sign of civilization in the valley.

Gabriel was still naked.  “It’s a thousand acre ranch and I’m the only occupant,” he pointed out.  “Far as I’m concerned, if someone’s trespassing, they deserve the eyeful they’ll get.  Besides, anyone would be lucky to get a look at this.”  He waggled his eyebrows and Sam snorted.

When Gabriel was done eating, he set his plate on the floor and stretched out on the rug, his head in Sam’s lap.  Sam tangled his fingers in the angel’s hair and they stayed like that while Sam finished his meal in a comfortable silence.

When Sam was finished, he touched Gabriel’s shoulder.  “Gabe, we need to talk to Dean and Cas.  Can you take us to them?”

Gabriel muttered, irritated, and rubbed his cheek against Sam’s jeans. He was warm and comfortable and sleepy and he didn’t want to think about Sam’s cranky brother and his uptight angel.

Sam’s hand got a little more insistent.  “Seriously, Gabe.  It’s important.”

“Mmf,” Gabriel said. He turned on his side. “Called Cas.”

“You what? When?”

Gabriel sighed.  “Angel radio, dumbass. Told him to bring everyone up tomorrow. Now shut up.  Sleeping.”

“Not today?”

The archangel groaned and glared up at the tall man.  “What do I have to do to get you to stop talking? Everyone’s fine. The apocalypse isn’t going to happen in the next twenty-four hours.  Can’t I have just one day with you before everything goes to shit?”

Sam’s face softened and he stroked Gabriel’s hair away from his forehead. “You couldn’t just say that when I first started talking?”

Gabriel scowled.  “I was _sleeping._ ”

“Damn, you’re cranky when you’re woken up, aren’t you?  I probably shouldn’t find that adorable.”

The angel sighed and sat up.  “Well, I’m awake now. What do you want to do?”

“Oh no,” Sam said, avoiding the hand that was reaching for his crotch. “I need to wash dishes and put away leftovers.”

“You woke me up and now you’re not even going to make it up to me?” Gabriel crossed his arms, sulking. “You’re a horrible person.”

“I know,” Sam said cheerfully.  He got up and gathered the plates, smiling down at the slender man still sitting on the floor. “Come on.  You want to wash or dry?”

“I want to _watch,_ ” Gabriel said, standing up in one fluid movement.  He didn’t miss the way that made Sam’s eyes darken and he smiled.  Okay, this could be fun too.

 

Sam was having difficulty concentrating on the dishes.  Gabriel had consented to putting on a pair of pants, but somehow that was just making it worse.  They were soft, slouchy denim that hung low on his hips, offering teasing peeks at the angel’s sharp hipbones and making it obvious he was commando underneath, and Sam had to turn away and swallow hard several times when Gabriel reached up to put the plates away.  The amusement in the other man’s eyes said he knew exactly what he was doing to the hunter, and Sam glared.  Two could play at that game.

“How about that hot chocolate?” he said when the dishes were done. “You managed to save the milk from burning and I think I can salvage it, so why don’t I make something for that sweet tooth of yours?”

Gabriel plopped down on a barstool and leaned against the counter, bracing himself on his elbows.  “You go right ahead, Sammy. I’ll provide the running commentary.”

Sam turned on the burner and reached for the cocoa, knocking the measuring spoons off the counter.  “Oops.” He bent to pick them up and heard a sharp inhalation behind him.  Grinning, he straightened and began to add cocoa to the pot.  When he dipped his finger in the pan to check the temperature, he made sure Gabriel had a good view before he licked it off. He didn’t miss the way the angel shifted on the stool.

“So far this process is severely lacking in commentary,” he observed as he stirred.

“Hardly my fault when you keep pulling shit like that,” Gabriel grumbled. “How am I supposed to keep my head when you’re all Mr. Sex-on-Legs over there, that’s what I want to know?”

Sam smiled to himself and poured the cocoa into mugs, tossing in a handful of tiny marshmallows on each.  Handing one to Gabriel, he rested his hips against the sink and took a sip.

When the first taste of the creamy dark chocolate hit his tongue, he closed his eyes and moaned. 

Gabriel swore fluently.  Sam opened his eyes. The archangel was sucking a reddened spot on his wrist and there was cocoa soaking into his jeans’ leg.

“Spilled it,” he muttered thickly.

“You should be more careful,” Sam said. 

Gabriel narrowed his eyes and Sam lifted an eyebrow. 

“You…” Gabriel abruptly shut up and took a too-fast swallow from his mug. He spluttered on the scalding liquid and Sam was there, taking the mug and slapping him on the back.

“You gonna live?”

“No thanks to you,” Gabriel wheezed.  He glared at the lanky man with tears streaming down his face.  “I hate you.”

Sam grinned. “No you don’t.” He picked up the archangel’s hand, inspecting the burned spot.  “Want some ice?” His hands were cool and soothing against Gabriel’s skin and his thumbs were doing something to the angel’s pulse.

Gabriel shook his head.

“In that case,” Sam said, eyes dark and full of mischief, “Kiss it and make it better?”

Gabriel whimpered.

Sam’s hands fell to the angel’s hips, bracketing them with his long fingers. Gabriel’s back arched and he pushed his pelvis forward.  Sam slid one huge hand down his leg, teasing, promising. 

“Maybe we should take these off,” he said, “So I can inspect the damage.”

“Yes please,” Gabriel managed.

Sam’s mouth was dry as he unbuttoned the jeans.  Gabriel lifted his hips so that Sam could tug them down and off his legs, leaving the angel straddling the stool naked, his erection brushing his stomach.

The hunter licked his lips and adjusted himself unselfconsciously.

“Wait, how come I’m naked but you’re not?” Gabriel complained.  He reached for the button of Sam’s jeans but the hunter dodged his hands.

“Uh uh. I want to get to know you for awhile.” He sank to his knees in front of the stool and Gabriel clutched the edge of the counter.  But Sam didn’t go straight for the prize. He licked and nibbled his way down one leg and up the other, caressing the groove of Gabriel’s hip with his tongue.

Gabriel shifted, trying to hurry him along, but Sam would not be rushed. He pinned the angel to the stool as he bit lightly at his abdomen, enjoying the way Gabriel jerked beneath his hands. Then his mouth closed over a nipple and Gabriel gasped.  Sam took his time, rolling the sensitive bud between tongue and teeth, teasing it into a peak, pulling away and blowing on the overheated flesh, then engulfing it again.

Gabriel’s hands were white where he was gripping the counter and he was breathing in short, rapid gusts, his body trembling when Sam pulled away.

“What…why’d you stop?”

Sam arched his eyebrow.  “Oh dear, was that a full sentence?  I must be slipping.” He turned his attention to Gabriel’s other nipple and the angel groaned, dark and needy.

Time stretched interminably as Sam lost himself in discovering the way Gabriel reacted so beautifully to everything Sam was doing to him.  He didn’t stop until the angel was gripping his head, trembling so hard he could barely get the words out.

“Please…please, Sam…I need…”

“That’s more like it,” Sam husked, and he surged up to capture Gabriel’s mouth. Gabriel opened willingly to him and Sam explored those clever lips, tracing them lightly with his tongue before dipping inside and savoring the moan that dragged out of the angel.

Sam felt Gabriel’s legs twining around his hips, tugging him closer until Sam’s erection was rubbing Gabriel’s belly, resting against the angel’s hardness. Sam’s hips began to move in tiny, sharp thrusts and Gabriel’s head fell back as he panted for air.

That was fine by Sam; now he had that long, lovely throat to play with. He sucked a mark into Gabriel’s collarbone, biting down just enough that Gabriel jerked, and then he worked back up, nipping and licking a stripe all the way to the angel’s earlobe. His hips still moving, he settled in there, nibbling gently and then sucking it into his mouth, and Gabriel’s hands came up to grab his shoulders.

“Sam…I swear if you don’t stop torturing me…”  He shuddered as Sam hit a particularly good rhythm, Gabe’s eyes falling shut against the sensations flooding him.

“I need…need you,” he finally managed to get out.  “Before…dammit, Sammy, I’m gonna -”  But Sam cut him off with a bruising kiss as his hips thrust hard and Gabriel stiffened and came, hot and hard and wet all over his ribs.

He collapsed, Sam’s long arms supporting him as the hunter deepened their kiss, turning it slow and gentle and sweet.  Gabriel sighed into his lover’s mouth, relaxing against the counter.

Sam’s hips were still moving in small, restless circles, and Gabriel wrapped his arms around the bigger man’s neck.  “I’m pretty sure you just robbed me of my muscular functions for the next few hours,” he mumbled into Sam’s collarbone, “But if you can get me to the bed, I’d really like it if you’d fuck me.”

Sam froze, then pulled away just enough to look into the angel’s whiskey brown eyes. “Are…are you sure?”

Gabriel snorted. “Wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t, you walking landmass.  Now shut up and get us there like a good boy.”

Sam didn’t need telling twice.  He grunted a little as he scooped the angel up.  “If this is going to become a habit, I need to start working out more. You’re heavier than you look.” But Gabriel’s mouth was too busy for him to answer, returning the favor of what Sam had done to his neck with interest.

Halfway across the floor, Gabe freed a hand and slipped it between them to palm the hunter’s cock, still trapped inside his jeans, and Sam’s knees buckled. They went sprawling, both men twisting to protect the other so that instead they ended up tangled in each other’s limbs, the air driven thoroughly from both their lungs.

Sam groaned and rolled to his back, gasping for breath.  “ _Ow._ ”

“Sorry,” Gabe panted, fighting the urge to giggle. 

Sam glared at him half-heartedly.  “You’d better be planning on making it up to me.”

 

Gabriel rolled over and straddled the hunter’s hips, smiling at him as nimble fingers worked to pull his jeans down.  “That could be arranged.”

Sam groaned as Gabe’s hands brushed his cock, straining to get free of its denim prison. “Why don’t you just snap me naked?” he asked even as he lifted up so Gabriel could yank the jeans down.

“Instant gratification is overrated, gorgeous,” the archangel said, grinning.

“Yeah well, I’m a lot younger than you.  And I don’t want to die of old age before we get around to the orgasms portion of the day.”

Gabriel snickered.  “If you do die, it’ll probably be of heart failure.  Fucking me is so amazing that it’s been outlawed in several countries.”

Sam laughed. “Well, your ego’s healthy, I’ll give you that much.”

Gabriel leaned down and kissed him.  “So’s the rest of me,” he murmured, and indulged himself in a long make-out session. When he pulled back, Sam was flushed and panting, his lips kiss-swollen and eyes dazed.

Gabriel snapped his fingers and then flicked the cap on a bottle of lube. He reached behind him and wrapped slippery fingers around Sam’s shaft, loving the way the young man moaned and bucked up into his fist.

He indulged himself in stroking for a minute, until the hunter was writhing, wordless pleas falling from his mouth.  Only then did he line up and begin to work his hips downward.

Sam’s hands stopped him.  “Gabe, _wait._ ”

Gabriel’s eyes snapped open and he glared down at Sam.  “ _What?_ ”

Sam licked his lips nervously and he glanced between them to where they were nearly joined. 

“You’ve got about two seconds to spit it out,” Gabriel warned.

“I’m…I’m not an expert, but don’t you need to be prepped?” Sam finally blurted. He was _blushing_ , the angel realized with delight.

He grinned at the hunter.  “Sammy, I built this body from the ground up.  Believe me when I tell you that I know exactly what it can take.  Now shut the fuck up and enjoy the show, would you?” And he sank down until Sam’s cock breached the outer ring of muscle.

Sam’s fingers bit into his hips and the hunter groaned, struggling to keep from thrusting hard into Gabriel’s tight heat.

Gabe’s eyes were closed, lip caught between his teeth as he felt his inner walls stretching to accommodate the younger man’s girth, loving the way he was opening up. He could feel Sam trembling with the effort of being still, his fingers tight with the strain.

When the archangel was flush with Sam’s hips, he took a deep, shaky breath and opened his eyes.  Sam was staring up at him in wonder, eyes wide and lost looking.  Gabe brushed a thumb over the hunter’s lips and winked at him. Then he began to move.

Sam’s back arched as Gabe lifted and then slid back down, punching a moan out of both men.

“Oh my G-” Gabe’s hand over Sam’s mouth stopped the rest of the sentence and Sam looked startled.

The angel’s hips didn’t lose their rhythm and Gabriel was proud that he was only a little breathless when he said, “If you mention my Father’s name during sex, Sam Winchester, I’ll call the whole thing off right now.”

Sam smiled under his hand and then flicked his tongue against the angel’s skin. Gabriel shivered and sped up as the hunter sucked his fingers into his mouth.  His own cock was already hard again, leaking against him as he drove down forcefully and rose up again.

Gabriel gripped himself with his free hand and began to stroke, delighting in the feel of Sam’s mouth enveloping his fingers, his cock breaching his depths and grazing his prostate with every wild jab.

Sam’s breath was beginning to stutter in his throat and his hips were meeting Gabriel’s ass with wet slaps, his thrusts becoming unfocused and offbeat.

“That’s it,” Gabriel whispered.  “Let it go. Come on, Sam.”

Sam sobbed and drove up hard, emptying with desperate urgency into the angel’s core. Gabriel tensed, feeling the hunter’s cock spasming against his inner walls, and then he was coming again too, spurting over Sam’s stomach with a groan.

They stayed like that for a long, frozen moment, staring at each other, before Gabriel folded forward, collapsing onto the hunter’s broad chest. Large hands gripped his elbows, thumbs stroking the soft inner skin.

Gabriel took deep breaths, his heart racing.  He could hear Sam’s thumping away wildly under his ear and he smiled. “Told you it was dangerous,” he murmured.

Sam’s laugh rumbled deep in his chest.  “You mad bastard.  I’m in deep trouble, aren’t I?”

“Only kind worth being in, Sammy,” the archangel said, and kissed him slow and gentle.

They stayed that way for a while, enjoying the feeling of skin on skin and the endorphins still coursing through their bodies.

Finally Sam stirred.  “Much as I’m enjoying this, my back isn’t happy with this hard floor.  Think we could continue it in bed?”

Gabriel muttered something, moving so he could tuck his head in under Sam’s jaw and tightening his arms around the hunter’s body.

Sam laughed quietly.  “Do I need to carry you to the bed or can you walk?” 

He dragged the angel upright and cajoled him into the huge bed, climbing in next to him. Gabriel curled up against the hunter, soaking in his warmth, and sighed.

“Missed you,” he whispered.

The hand stroking his hair froze, then resumed.  When the reply came, it was almost too quiet to be heard. “Love you, you jackass.”

Gabriel drifted into sleep with a smile on his face as the sun set, streaking the white snow with vivid reds and yellows.

 

Early the next morning, Sam sat bolt upright, startling Gabriel out of his comfortable sleep, to the sound of angel wings.

There were three people standing in the living room.  Cas looked worried, Harper confused.  Dean mostly just looked furious. 

“ _Clothes_ ,” Sam hissed.

Gabriel scowled and snapped his fingers, then swung his feet over the edge of the bed and stood up, fully clothed.

“Bro, you made it!”  He held out his arms and sauntered toward the group.

He was entirely unprepared for Dean to deck him.

Gabriel went sprawling backward, skidding across the wooden floor, and then Sam was there, catching Dean’s arms and pushing him away, talking urgently as Dean fought to get around him at the angel.

“ _Stop._   Dammit, stop and think for a second!  He saved my life.  Plus he’s a freaking _archangel,_ Dean, are you completely deranged?  What were you thinking, punching him?”

Dean glared up at his brother.  He’d stopped struggling to get to Gabriel but he was clearly still furious.

Gabriel scrambled to his feet, equally enraged.  He took one step toward Dean, lifting a hand, and Sam whirled to face him, putting himself between the two men even as Cas jumped forward.

“ _Everyone_ simmer the fuck down!” Harper’s voice was sharp, cutting through the testosterone that was filling the air, and four sets of eyes blinked and looked at her.  She crossed her arms and scowled at them.  “Seriously, if this is what having a dick does to you, I am _so_ glad I don’t have one.”

Sam pointed at Gabriel.  “Don’t you dare, Gabriel. If you even _think_ about doing something humiliating to Dean, I will never give you another blowjob for the rest of your life.”

“Oh my _God!_ ” Dean exclaimed, recoiling. “I didn’t need to _know_ about that!”

Gabriel stared mutinously at Sam.  “I wasn’t going to do much,” he muttered.  “I was just thinking he should be a newt for awhile.”

Dean poked his head around Sam’s shoulder.  “I understood that reference and I don’t appreciate it very much, asshole.”

Cas was looking bewildered.  Harper rolled her eyes.

Suddenly the absurdity of the situation hit Sam and a laugh bubbled up. Everyone in the room turned to stare at him and he tried to apologize but another snicker slipped out.

The outrage on Dean’s face, the affront on Gabriel’s, the confusion radiating from Castiel, and the thousand percent _done_ attitude rolling off Harper; all of it was so ridiculous that Sam couldn’t stop laughing.  He wrapped his arms around his ribs and let the helpless giggles take him, sitting down on the bed and squeezing his eyes shut because looking at his family would just set him off again.

 _His family_. For so long it had been just him and Dean against the world, but then there’d been Cas, and Harper. And now Gabriel. All his family, all so precious to him. Sam’s laughter subsided into hiccups and he opened his eyes to find all four gathered around him with identical expressions of worry on their faces.

Which of course just set him off again.

Finally he was able to get himself under control, waving a hand weakly in an attempt to dispel the random giggles that kept popping out.  His abs ached and there were tears of laughter on his face.

“Sorry,” he managed.  He wasn’t, not really. He felt lighter somehow, cleaner and happier than he had in longer than he could remember.  “Gabe, c’mere.”  He took the archangel’s hand, tugging him down to sit next to him.  Sam wrapped a long arm around his shoulders and looked up at Dean, whose expression was easing.

“Dean, please don’t punch Gabe again.  I’m here of my own free will, I promise.”  He looked at Gabriel, still glowering.  “No newts, Gabe.  No tricks, period. Are we clear?”

Gabriel rolled his eyes but finally he nodded.

“Wonderful,” Harper said, clapping her hands.  “Do you think we can actually sit and talk like grownups or does there need to be another display of manly aggression first?”

Sam grinned at her.  “I think we’re okay now, Harp. It’s good to see you.”

Harper’s eyes softened and she took a quick step forward to throw her arms around the hunter.  “It’s good to see you too. Scared the _shit_ out of me, you asshole.  Don’t you ever do that again.”

Sam hugged her back.  “I’ll do my best. You remember Gabriel?”

Gabriel gave her a sardonic salute and Harper flipped him off.

“Oh yeah,” Sam sighed.  “This is going to be _fun._ ”

 

They ended up in several plush armchairs that Gabriel snapped into existence for them. Sam grinned when his seat was a couch and Gabriel sat down and draped his legs across Sam’s lap with a look that dared Dean to say something.

Harper glanced around the lodge appreciatively.  “Nice place, dickhead.”

“Thanks,” Gabriel said.  “Worked hard on it.”

Dean snorted. “I’ll bet.  Did your poor fingers get blisters zapping all this stuff into place?”

Gabriel gave Sam a plaintive look.  “Is all this animosity going to stop soon?  I _did_ save your life, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, but you also ditched my ass for four months and sort of broke my heart, so don’t hold your breath,” Sam said.

“I broke your heart?” Gabriel said.  He looked stunned.

Harper rolled her eyes.  “It was pathetic. He moped like a six foot four Basset hound.  I wanted to shoot him just to put him out of our misery.”

“Yeah, but instead you kissed me,” Sam shot back, grinning.  Then he froze and snuck a look at Gabriel, who was staring at Harper with murder in his eyes.  “No, _no._ Dammit Gabe, _no smiting._ It was crossed signals, that’s all. Gabe, behave!”

Harper just smirked at the archangel, who narrowed his eyes. Sam sighed and grabbed Gabe’s face, jerking it around until he had no choice but to meet Sam’s eyes. “Jealous is not a good look on you,” Sam said through his teeth.

Gabriel set his jaw. 

Sam growled in frustration.  “Everyone in this room that’s not me or Gabe, shut your eyes _right now_.”  Without looking to see if they’d obeyed, he yanked the archangel into a hard kiss, reminding him with lips and tongue who he’d taken to bed, who he’d chosen.

When he let go, they were both panting and Gabriel looked a little dazed.

“Okay?” Sam said.

Gabriel’s lips quirked.  “Okay,” he said.

“And play nice with Harper or I’ll kick your ass.”

Gabriel sulked, but then sighed.  “Fine.”

Sam sat back. “Okay, you guys can look again.”

Dean, Cas and Harper glared at him.

“That,” Dean announced to the room, “Was _gross._ ”

“Turnabout, big brother, isn’t just fair play but a beautiful, beautiful thing and I intend to do a _lot_ of it,” Sam informed him.

Dean huffed, crossing his arms.

“Can we _please_ get to the reason we were dragged here?” Harper demanded.

“Yes,” Castiel agreed.  “Gabriel, why did Lucifer take you?  What did Andromalius want from you?”

Gabriel looked shifty and Sam poked him in the ribs. 

“Ow!” Gabriel glared at his lover. He sighed and slumped his shoulders, mumbling something.  Sam poked him again and he yelped.  “Are your fingers made of _iron_ , you freak of nature? Fine, _fine!_ I stole Lucifer’s sword, okay?”

A stunned silence descended on the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Side note: they DO do the "teeth thing" at a later date. So stay tuned. ;o)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have a little more porn to butter you up before the next chapter, which I just realized might or might not have the mother of all cliffhangers. ~cringe~ Also, WING!KINK (because I love you guys).

“You did _what?_ ” Dean demanded.

Gabriel stared at the ceiling, sulking.

Cas stood up and his wings flared out, stretching to their full length, staring at the archangel with fury in his eyes. 

Gabriel rolled his eyes.  “And they call _me_ a drama queen.”

Sam was gaping at him.  “But… _why_?” he said.  “And how?”

Gabriel lifted a shoulder, still trying for insouciance.  “How isn’t important.  Well, it _is,_ because it was _awesome_ and you guys should admire me for it. But ‘why’ is really the question of the day.”  He leaned back against the end of the couch and settled his legs more comfortably across Sam’s lap.

Silence fell and Gabriel smirked.

“Don’t make me drag it out of you,” Dean growled.

“As if you could,” Gabriel snapped.  He glanced at Sam, who was glaring at him, and forced himself to relax, sighing. “You guys are such a buzzkill. Look, I did it for the same reason I gave Castiel his wings back.  Both my brothers are being massive assholes. They need to be stopped. I thought I was pretty clear that I wasn’t in favor of the apocalypse, wasn’t I?”

“Yes,” Castiel said, “But you also made it clear that you were not on one side or the other.”  He sat down again, body stiff.

“That was before he threatened my comfortable lifestyle,” Gabriel said. “And…Sam.”  He shifted his weight.

“What? When did he threaten me?” Sam asked.

“He needs you, Sammy, just like Michael needs Dean.  And if he took you, well…I couldn’t get down with that. I like you the way you are, not as a glorified taxi ride for my asshole big brother.”

Sam rubbed his face.  “I don’t believe this.”

“Believe it, Samsquatch,” Gabriel said, but he patted the hunter’s shoulder.

“I’m thirsty,” Harper said abruptly, and made for the kitchen.  “Anyone want anything?”

“Beer would be good,” Dean called after her.  “If this massive jackass has any that doesn’t suck, that is.”

“Hey! I happen to have very good taste in beer, and isn’t it a little early in the day to be imbibing?” Gabriel said.

Dean snorted. “When I’m dealing with you, it’s _never_ too early.”

Harper opened the huge refrigerator and made delighted noises at finding it so well stocked while Sam stared at Gabriel, who wasn’t meeting his eyes.

“So you stole an archangel’s sword, one of the only things that can be used to kill said archangel.”  Sam’s voice was musing, speculative.  “Just out of the blue? Did you wake up one morning and think ‘Hm, you know what today needs?  Today needs a good theft from my big brother with all the rage issues, without telling anyone where I am or what I’m doing!’, or did you actually plan it out?”

Gabriel snuck a glance at him.  Sam looked frustrated, stretched to breaking point.  The archangel wanted to comfort him but hesitated, not wanting to be rebuffed, especially in front of his lover’s repellent older brother.

“I planned it out,” he said quietly, no hint of his usual sass in his voice. “I had an escape plan in place, emergency contingency measures ready to go; Lucifer had no idea I was even there until I was gone.”

“I’m sure it was impressive as all hell,” Dean drawled, leaning back in his chair. “But I think what we’re all more curious about is how Lucifer knew it was you and what he got out of you while you were enjoying Andro-what’s-his-face’s tender mercies.”

Gabriel shrugged.  “There weren’t too many others it could’ve been,” he pointed out.  “I was a fairly logical step.  And Andromalius didn’t get anything out of me except the entire cast of Baywatch and the first three seasons’ storylines.”  He couldn’t help but grin at the matching baffled expressions of the three men watching him.  “My own personal version of name, rank and serial number, if you will,” he said. “That David Hasselhoff is a national treasure, don’t you think?”

Dean’s mouth twitched and Gabriel suppressed a surge of glee at having amused the grouchy hunter.  Sam just sighed.

Harper showed up carrying a tray with an assortment of beverages arrayed on it. “I didn’t know what you guys wanted, so I brought most of the fridge.”  She sprawled on the floor at Sam’s feet, leaning against his legs, and Gabriel scowled at her.  Sam lifted a finger in silent warning and the archangel huffed and sat back.

“So how did you escape?” Castiel inquired.

“Hm? Oh.  Well, it wasn’t easy.  In fact, it was pretty awesome.” 

Dean rolled his eyes.  “I’m sure it was. Stop preening and just fucking tell us, would you?”

“How have you not been stabbed thirty times and left in an alley to die before now?” Gabriel demanded.  “You may be the most annoying human I’ve ever met, and I’ve met a _lot.”_

Dean grinned at him, showing too many teeth.  “Combination of my killer charm and devastating good looks. Makes people overlook my other personality flaws.”

Sam stood up. “ _Okay_. We’re done.”

Everyone stared at him.  Sam was throttling his temper back with an effort.  It showed in the way the muscle in his jaw kept jumping, and his clenching fists. Gabriel stood too, wary.

“Sam?”

The tall man whirled on him and Gabriel took a step back before he caught himself. There was fury in those hazel green eyes and a small thrill surged through the angel at the sight.

“Is there anywhere for our guests to sleep?” Sam asked tightly.

Gabriel blinked.  “Uh…well, yeah. This is just the main part of the lodge. Guest quarters are through there.” He pointed to the door at the end of the room.  “There are several suites; they can take their pick.”

“Good.” Sam turned to Dean and Castiel. “Choose a room. Harper, you do the same. Then do me a favor and stay there for a while. Gabe and I have some things to discuss _in private._ ”

Gabriel’s eyes widened.  He’d never seen Sam so furious. He shifted his weight, uncertain.

Dean stood up and held out a hand to Harper, who scrambled to her feet. Man, woman and angel headed for the door, casting surreptitious glances over their shoulders at the two men standing in the middle of the room.

 

Tension thrummed heavy between them as silence descended. 

Gabriel cleared his throat.  “Sam…”

The hunter was on him before he could finish whatever he was going to say. Gabriel grunted into the impact of Sam’s large body colliding with him, grappling and pushing, _controlling_ , mouth feverishly seeking his.

Gabriel stumbled backward under the onslaught before he caught his balance and regained cognitive function enough to kiss the hunter back, opening to allow the larger man in.

Sam panted against him, arms tight, hungry and desperate.  Gabriel closed his eyes and kissed him, hard and rough, losing himself to the sensations rolling through him as Sam’s hands roved over his body.

“Not for nothing, kiddo,” he finally broke away enough to manage, “But where’s this coming from?”

Sam lifted his head.  His eyes were still stormy. “You,” he growled.

“Uh…” Gabriel said intelligently.

“ _You,_ with your smartass comments and thinking you’re fucking _bulletproof,_ ” Sam snarled.  He stooped and grabbed the angel, picking him up to straddle his hips.  Gabriel balanced himself with hands on the hunter’s shoulders, staring down into his angry, beautiful face.

“Sam…”

“No,” Sam snapped.  “You shut up. For once in your life, just _shut up._ ” He closed his eyes, battling for control, and Gabriel tightened his legs around the hunter’s waist to keep from slipping.

Sam pulled the angel’s head down to kiss him, groaning into his mouth, then pressed their foreheads together.  “You almost died _,_ ” he whispered. “You waltzed into Hell and stole Lucifer’s most prized possession.  You were caught.  You were _tortured._   You almost fucking _died,_ Gabe, and you’re still treating it like it was some grand joke, like it was a _lark._ ”

Gabriel bit his lip.  “In my defense,” he said carefully, “When I did that, you and I weren’t exactly an item. It’s not like you would’ve mourned me.”

Sam’s eyes snapped open and Gabriel nearly swallowed his tongue.  If the hunter had been angry before, he was _incandescent_ now.  He shoved the angel away hard and Gabriel staggered backward, nearly tripping over the couch.

“ _How fucking dare you?_ ” Sam snarled, advancing on him.  “Do you think that little of yourself?  You just assume that no one loves you, that no one would mourn you?  Just how much do you hate yourself, anyway?”

Gabriel put the couch between them, scrambling for words.  Sam stopped on the other side, staring at him with hot eyes.

“It’s not like that,” Gabriel protested. 

“Why don’t you tell me how it _is_ , then?” Sam said, folding his arms across his broad chest.

Gabriel opened and closed his mouth.  Finally he shrugged.  “I’m…expendable,” he said.  “I figured if I could level the playing field a bit, you stood a chance of stopping Lucifer, and if I didn’t make it, well, no real loss; you’d just be back where you started.”

Sam stared at him in shock and then his shoulders sagged suddenly, the fury leaving him in a rush.  He went to his knees, covering his face, and his large frame shook once, hard.

Gabriel vanished the couch with a thought and shook out his wings as he gathered the hunter into his arms.  His wings curved forward, enfolding them both in a rustling, silken cocoon. Gabriel whispered soothing words in Enochian as Sam’s arms slid around his waist and gripped him in a desperate embrace.

“I’m here,” Gabriel said, resting his cheek on the hunter’s brown hair. “I’m sorry, Sammy.   I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just can’t stand the thought of Lucifer taking you over; I couldn’t even think about it and I had to _do_ something. It never even occurred to me that you’d mourn me; you barely even knew me at the time.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Sam mumbled.  Gabriel’s shoulder was wet with his tears.  “You nearly threw this away before we even had it.”  He lifted his head.  “What’s to stop you from doing it again?”

Gabriel kissed him, cupping his face with both hands.  “Because I _have_ you now,” he whispered. “Because I’d do anything to keep you. I love you, Sam Winchester.”

 

Sam stared at the angel for an eternity, his mind roiling. All his tricks, his jokes, his impressive deflecting tactics…Gabriel had just dropped them all and bared himself to the hunter.

He was staring at Sam now, nervousness lurking in those whiskey brown eyes. His mobile lips twisted into a wry smile.  “Kinda crazy, huh, the millennia old angel falling in love with a twenty-six year old kid? Talk about robbing the cradle!”

“Stop talking,” Sam said.  He leaned in and kissed the angel, deep and sweet.  “You talk too much.”  Pulling back an inch, he ran a hand through his own hair and sighed, glancing up.

And then nearly fell over backwards at the sight of the wings enveloping them both.

“Holy _shit!”_

Gabriel snapped the wings back, flaring them up in surprise.  “You can see them?” he demanded.

Sam nodded, speechless.  He’d never seen anything so beautiful. 

Gabriel’s wings were every shade of brown there was, dark ochre at the top, sliding down the gradient through rich golden and molten copper to pale sand, each feather tipped with inky black.  The wings were huge, each one nearly three times Gabriel’s height, and Sam couldn’t remember how to breathe.

“Gabe…oh my G-…” He stopped himself just in time.  “Sorry.  They’re just…amazing. _You’re_ amazing.” The colors in the feathers sparked Gabriel’s eyes to liquid gold, the dark ring around the irises almost glowing. Sam swallowed hard, his fingers itching to explore.

Gabriel curved one wing forward and draped it across Sam’s thighs, causing Sam to nearly choke on his tongue. 

“Go ahead,” Gabriel said, smiling a little.  “You know you want to.”

Sam took a shaky breath and slid his hands into the plumage in his lap. The feathers rustled, a heavy, silken, almost alive blanket, and Sam found himself stroking each pinion, starting at the top of the bone as far as he could reach and skimming down through each row of feathers.

He was so enrapt in what he was doing that it took him awhile to look up and see how Gabriel was taking it.  The archangel’s hands were fisted in his lap, head thrown back as he breathed in sharp, short gasps.

“Gabe?” Sam asked, alarmed.

Gabriel cracked one eye open.  “Whatever you do, Sammy, _don’t stop._ ”

Sam grinned. “Turn around.” He ducked just in time to avoid a wing to the temple when Gabriel obeyed instantly, settling on his knees with his back to the hunter.  Sam just sat for a moment, marveling at the graceful sweeps of feather and bone that draped to either side of the angel’s slim back.

“…S-Sam…” Gabriel’s voice was tense, strained.

Sam smiled and put one hand flat between Gabriel’s shoulder blades, pushing. The angel canted forward and caught himself with his hands on the floor, Sam’s hand steadily pressing until Gabriel was prone, face down.  Then the hunter crawled up him until he was settled on the angel’s hips, his weight centering the smaller man.

Sam took a shaky breath and then leaned forward and began to work his hands through the feathers on the left wing, teasing each errant quill into place, stroking the pinions down and smoothing them with his palms.  Gabriel twitched underneath him and Sam realized the angel was trembling.

The hunter turned his attention to the right wing, repeating the process, until Gabriel was a shivering mess, gasping wordless pleas and clutching at the sheepskin rug under him.

Sam leaned down and kissed the nape of the angel’s neck, trailing his fingers down Gabriel’s spine and enjoying the groan that wrung from him.

“You’re gorgeous,” Sam whispered.  “You’d be even more so if you’d help me get rid of all these clothes.”

He wasn’t even done with his sentence before the angel snapped his fingers and their clothes were gone. 

Sam snorted a laugh.  “What happened to delayed gratification?” he asked, shifting so that his erection ground against Gabriel’s ass.

Gabriel gasped. “Over…rated,” he managed, pushing back against Sam’s hardness.

Sam looked up, scanning the floor for the lube they’d used last time. Finding it half under a rug, he scrambled for it and was back on top of the angel in seconds.  He leaned forward and lightly nipped Gabriel’s earlobe. “What do you want?” he breathed, delighting in the way the angel shuddered, his hands clenching spasmodically in the sheep’s wool.

“You,” Gabriel panted. 

“Say it,” Sam said.  “I want to hear you say it.” He coated his fingers with lube and began stroking the angel’s tightly furled muscle, sliding one finger in up to the knuckle and then pulling back, waiting.

Gabriel writhed beneath him.  He seemed to have lost the power of speech.  “Come on,” Sam taunted, lightheaded at the way the angel was disintegrating beneath his touch.

“P-please…”

Sam pushed two fingers in and Gabriel thrashed, his wings shifting with a soft susurration that made Sam shiver with anticipation.

Sam crooked his fingers and found Gabriel’s prostate and the angel _keened_ , high and choked in the back of his throat.

Sam was aching, desperate to force his way inside, to take and conquer and control, but somehow he found the self-control to stop.  He stilled and so did Gabriel, their breathing harsh in the otherwise quiet room.  Sam didn’t move.

He grinned when Gabriel realized what he was waiting for and the angel groaned, tilting his hips and pushing back.

“Say it!” Sam growled.

Gabriel turned his head and glared at him.  “Sam, if you don’t fuck me in the next two seconds I’ll turn _you_ into a newt.”

Sam choked on a laugh.  “Your begging needs work,” he said, lining up and driving in with one hard thrust.

Gabriel bucked underneath him, biting the back of his hand to stifle the moans that tumbled from his throat.

Sam hilted himself, his hips pressed up against the curves of the angel’s ass, and his eyes fluttered closed.  He pulled Gabriel up onto his knees and elbows, spreading the angel’s legs wide before he began to thrust.  Heat, tight and slippery, enveloped his cock, opening around him and welcoming him in.

Gabriel flicked his wings, resettling them, and Sam shuddered and took two big handfuls of feathers, letting them slide through his fingers in satiny whispers while his hips snapped, nailing Gabriel’s prostate with every forward push.

Gabriel’s moans grew louder and suddenly Sam needed more, more contact, more _everything._ He leaned forward and grabbed the angel’s shoulders, pulling him upright until Gabriel was nearly in his lap, wings pinned between them.  He curved one long arm under Gabriel’s and over his shoulder, almost a half-Nelson hold, and with his other hand he gripped the base of the angel’s right wing, anchoring himself so he could thrust harder.

Gabriel’s head was thrown back, his eyes shut, unable to do anything but take what Sam was giving him in helpless ecstasy.  He flicked his wings backward, covering the hunter in drifts of brown and gold and that was it, Sam was done.  His world whited out around the edges as he came, emptying in violent spurts deep within his lover’s welcoming core.  He was dimly aware of Gabriel being wracked by spasms, shaking apart in his arms, wet heat splattering both their thighs.

He slumped backward onto his heels, Sam’s arms the only things keeping the angel upright, his head lolling back on the hunter’s broad shoulder.

An eternity later, Gabriel stirred.  “ _Shit,_ ” he said with feeling.

Sam nosed his neck, tasting salt and smelling ozone and coffee and chocolate. “Mm-hm.”

Gabriel rolled his head a little so he could look up at the hunter. “So…a wing kink, huh?”

“And _how,_ ” Sam said, grinning.

“Well, this oughta be fun,” Gabriel said, and pulled Sam’s head down for a long, sloppy kiss.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm all out of whack on the schedule for this, but I figure you guys will forgive me for posting early, since A) we're going into the weekend and B) uh...wait, you're not going to be in a forgiving mood by the end of the chapter.
> 
> Crap. Well, in that case, have a little porn before you break out the torches and pitchforks?

Dean, Castiel and Harper stood in the hall, bemused.  They could hear Sam and Gabriel’s voices in a low rumble through the door, Sam suddenly shouting and then silence.

Harper stirred first.  “Well, let’s see what we’ve got, boys.”  She strode down the darkened passage, throwing doors open as she came to them. Two large bedrooms on one side and a home theater on the other were revealed, the last making Dean rub his hands together in glee.  Harper and he started inside but Castiel grabbed Dean’s arm.

“May I speak with you, Dean?”

Dean swung around, startled.  There was real worry on his angel’s face, so Dean closed his mouth and nodded. Picking one of the bedrooms at random, he towed Castiel toward it, waving at Harper, who was going through the movies and gasping with delight at what she found.

“You guys have fun,” she called.  “I’ll be in here with my buttery popcorn and movies that haven’t even been _released_ yet.”

Dean groaned but stopped himself.  Time enough for that later. Castiel was upset and needed him right now.

He shut the bedroom door behind them, glancing around.  The room’s decor was sumptuous, although not as dripping with overindulgence as Dean would have predicted.  The furniture was dark mahogany and the color scheme was soothing, shades of pale grays and blues.  The bed was huge; what seemed like at least an acre’s worth of inviting space covered in a dark blue bedspread and paler blue pillows. An open door on the other side of the room gave a glimpse of the most impressive bathroom Dean had ever seen.

He turned to face Castiel, who was running a worried hand through his hair. “What is it, Cas?”

“I am…I can’t…I don’t know what to do, Dean,” the angel finally admitted.

Dean took a step forward, getting into Castiel’s space.  He looked into those dark blue eyes and smiled. “Hey, hey.  It’s okay.  We’re going to figure this out, right?  We’ll be fine.”

Cas pulled away, frustrated.  “Dean, Lucifer is hunting us.  Gabriel stole his sword. We are facing an apocalypse any day now. How is _any_ of this okay?”

“You’ve got a point,” Dean said, sighing.  He sat down on the bed and watched Cas pace.  He loved the way the angel moved, all lean, swinging grace, that barely leashed power that rolled under the surface.

Castiel sent an annoyed glance at him.  “Now is not the time to admire my vessel, Dean.  We have to figure out what to do, how we can prevent this war.”

“Of course,” Dean agreed.  He leaned back on his elbows and spread his legs a little, grinning to himself when Cas’s step stuttered and he slowed. 

“Dean,” the angel said warningly.

“What?” Dean’s face was innocent.  He sat up and pulled his t-shirt off over his head, tossing it on the floor and stretching. “That bathroom is huge, isn’t it? I’ll bet the shower is a _beast._   I’m gonna check it out.”  He hopped off the bed and headed across the room, unbuttoning his jeans as he went.

Cas let out a frustrated breath behind him.

Dean was right; the shower was enormous.  He cranked the water as hot as he could stand and slipped under the spray, moaning in delight as the water pummeled the knots out of his muscles.

It wasn’t long before Castiel was opening the shower door and stepping inside, frowning, and Dean grinned at him. 

“You have to feel this,” he said, holding out a hand to the angel. “The water pressure here is amazing.” He tugged Cas closer, pushing him under the spray and enjoying the startled gasp that burst free when the water hit the angel’s shoulders.

“We…need to devise a plan,” Cas managed.  “A strategy to, ah…defeat Lucifer.  Please, Dean, this is important.”

Dean picked up a bottle of ridiculously expensive shampoo, snorting at the frippery label, and squeezed some into his hand.  Moving closer, he slipped his fingers into Castiel’s hair, rubbing until he’d worked up a lather.

Cas closed his eyes, luxuriating in Dean’s attention, and Dean felt a wild upsurge of affection for the solemn angel.  He leaned forward and pressed their lips together and Castiel opened his eyes.

“I know you’re worried,” Dean whispered, “But will you just let me take care of you for a little while?  Please?”

Cas searched his face, then sighed and nodded.  “Yes, Dean.”

That was all the hunter needed.  Stealing one last kiss, he took the angel’s jaw and positioned his head so he could rinse the shampoo out, running his hands lazily through Cas’s short, dark spikes of hair, massaging the angel’s scalp and loving the way Cas melted into his fingertips, letting little moans and gasps slip out as Dean pampered him.

Soap was next, and Dean took his time sudsing up Castiel’s entire body, leaving no inch untouched.  Cas was hard and panting by the time Dean stood up and turned him into the spray to be rinsed off.

“Here or in bed?” Dean murmured, kissing Cas’s collarbone.

 

Castiel couldn’t summon words.  He blinked dazedly while Dean waited and finally realized Dean wasn’t going to touch him again until he’d made a decision.  He groaned. “Bed…please, Dean, please hurry.”

Dean grinned, a flash of white teeth amid the steam, and turned the water off. He wrapped huge, fluffy towels around both of them, drying off as quickly as he could, and then grabbed Cas’s hand and pulled him to the bed.

Castiel collapsed on his back in the middle of the huge four-poster and Dean was atop him in seconds, one leg between the angel’s, his rigid cock fitting into the groove of Castiel’s hip and his hips beginning to thrust.

Dean’s mouth captured the angel’s, lost in the slippery friction of skin against skin, heat coiling low in his belly.  Cas gasped against him, hips bucking helplessly, and Dean pulled back a little. Cas whimpered at the loss of contact, but Dean just grinned and scooted down the bed until he was on his knees between the angel’s legs.

“I think you need taking out of your head,” Dean mused.  He wasn’t touching, just _looking_ , but Castiel felt like a fire had been lit along his nerves, sparking with the heat in Dean’s eyes, and he squirmed.

“Here’s how this is going to work,” the hunter continued.  “I’m going to have my wicked way with you for awhile, and you’re not going to come until I tell you to.  When I give you permission, not before.  Do you think you can do that?”

Castiel swallowed hard.  There was a focused intensity on Dean’s face that both thrilled and frightened the angel, but he nodded. This was Dean. He would take care of him.

Dean smiled, wide and fierce.  “Good,” he breathed, and without any more warning took half of Castiel’s length into his mouth.

Cas arched off the bed with a strangled cry, gripping the blankets in both fists in an attempt to stop himself from fucking hard down Dean’s throat. The hunter hummed encouragingly, hot tongue stroking and teasing, and Castiel struggled for air.

Within minutes, he was spiraling close to the edge.  “D-Dean, _stop_ ,” he choked, and the hunter pulled away with an obscenely wet pop, smiling up at him with swollen lips.

Castiel moaned, but Dean was just getting started.  He proceeded to reduce the angel to a quivering, shaking mess on the satin coverlet, always stopping just before Castiel could reach completion.

Cas was drowning.  Every nerve ending was alight, all his thoughts scattered to the wind, the only thing in the world making sense to him the man that was currently worshiping him with hands and mouth.

Dean had three fingers buried within him, Cas realized, and he was hitting his prostate with every thrust.  Castiel was begging, broken pleas falling from his lips, desperate to come, to satisfy the ache.

The angel was riding the knife-edge of desire, inching ever closer to falling over, and when Dean crooked his fingers on one long slide, he gasped and stiffened, suddenly there.

He sobbed aloud in despair when Dean’s fist gripped his cock at the base, holding it firmly and throttling the orgasm back.

“ _Please_ ,” he begged. “Please Dean, _please!”_

Dean just smiled, wolfish and determined, and pinned the angel’s thrashing body with one strong arm until Cas finally gave up and lay still, trembling violently.

Only then did Dean release him, kissing his way up the angel’s body. “So good,” he whispered against Cas’s skin. “So good, so beautiful. Love you so much. Look at you.  You’re amazing.  So amazing.” He fitted their lips together and Cas sighed into the hunter’s mouth, opening beneath him and welcoming him in.

“I’m gonna fuck you,” Dean informed him, breaking for air, “And you’re not going to come from that either, not till I tell you to.”

Cas groaned aloud and spread his legs as the hunter lined up and began to sink in, the blunt head of his cock breaching the loosened ring of muscle with ease. Cas whimpered against the burn, the stretch of Dean filling him, and when Dean bottomed out, his pelvis flush against the angel’s ass, Castiel locked his legs around the hunter’s hips.

“Okay?” Dean asked, breathless.

Cas opened his eyes.  “Move,” he growled.

Dean obeyed, pulling out and then slamming home in one hard slide that made Cas’s eyes roll back in his head.  The hunter set up a steady rhythm, thrusting with a sweet, filthy drag and snap of his hips that punched the air from Castiel’s lungs with each jolting movement.

Cas reached for himself and began to stroke, inching inexorably back toward orgasm himself. He nearly wept when Dean knocked his hand away, grabbing his cock and holding it steady again, stopping the progress.

“Not yet,” Dean growled.  “Not…” He let go and leaned forward to kiss the angel again. 

Castiel whimpered against him.  “Need you,” he pleaded.

“You have me, baby,” Dean said, sitting up.   “You always have me.”

Dean was getting close, Cas knew.  He could see it in the way his green eyes were becoming a little unfocused, the way he bit his lip, the muscle that jumped in his jaw as his rhythm faltered. It was becoming nearly impossible for the angel to hold back his own release, the pressure welling beneath his skin.

The hunter gasped.  “ _Now,_ ” he choked out, and Cas let go, his vision dimming as he coated his stomach with come in long, aching spurts. He was vaguely aware that Dean had frozen, shuddering, his body wracked with spasms.

Eons later, the hunter pulled out and collapsed on top of him with a groan, burying his face in Castiel’s neck.

Cas couldn’t move.  His bones had turned to liquid, he decided.  He luxuriated in the solid weight of the man on top of him, pressing kisses to the square inch of skin he could reach without stirring.

Finally Dean lifted his head, concern in his eyes.  “Okay?” he whispered.

Cas managed a nod.  “Better than…okay.”

Dean smiled and kissed him.

 

Across the hall, Harper rolled her eyes and chose another movie, cranking the volume. Just her luck that she had to be surrounded by sex-crazed maniacs, fucking like bunnies while she went without. Thank God for popcorn and cold beer.

 

An eternity later, Sam stirred, sitting up and stretching.  Beside him on the rug, Gabriel whined in protest, tugging on his arm to pull the taller man back down.  Sam leaned over and kissed the angel on the temple and stood up.

“I need a shower,” he said. 

Gabriel glowered up at him and snapped his fingers.  Sam looked down at his suddenly clean body and sighed, folding his long legs and sitting down again.

“Dude…showers are for more than getting clean, you know.  They’re a great way to relax, get rid of stress, all that good stuff.”

Gabriel ignored him, burrowing against his hip and wrapping an arm around his waist. Sam laughed in spite of himself.

“I never would’ve taken you for a cuddler,” he said, running his fingers through the angel’s silky hair. 

Gabriel just sighed happily and tightened his arms.  They stayed that way for awhile, the angel dozing while Sam was lost in thought, gazing out the windows at the snow drifts that blanketed the ground in fluffy white mounds.

Gabriel yawned and pulled Sam from his reverie.  He glanced down at the angel, feeling tenderness tug at his heart. He still wasn’t sure how he’d gotten where he was, sitting on a sheepskin rug and in love with the freaking _Trickster_ , of all the beings in the universe, but there was nowhere else he’d rather be.

Gabriel’s whiskey-brown eyes opened slowly, awareness filling them. Sam smiled at him.

“Nice nap?”

Gabriel yanked on his arm and Sam went willingly, draping himself across the angel’s sturdy chest. He liked knowing that despite their size difference, there was no way he could hurt the man currently kissing him like it was going out of style.  He smiled against Gabriel’s lips.

“What’s funny?” the angel asked, a hair’s breadth between them.

“Nothing,” Sam said, kissing him again.  “Just…this is nice.”

Gabriel hummed agreement and they spent several slow, leisurely moments exploring each other.

Finally Sam sat up. "Where'd all this snow come from, anyway?  It's early October.  Is there usually snow on the ground this soon?"

"We're in the mountains, kiddo.  In Montana.  Snow is common more months of the year than not.  It  _is_ a little early, but not outrageously so.  Haven't you ever been in the mountains?"

"Not at this elevation.  Dean doesn't like heights."

"Not a surprise," Gabriel muttered.

Sam nudged him.  "Be nice."  He paused.  "So.”

Gabriel tucked his hands behind his head.  “A needle pulling thread?”

“Smartass,” Sam muttered.  “I mean…Lucifer’s sword.”

“What about it?”

“Well…where is it?”

Gabriel arched his eyebrow.  “If I told you, it wouldn’t exactly be a secret, would it, Samazon?”

“Is it here, with us?”

“Why? Planning on taking fencing lessons?”

Sam glared at him.  “I wasn’t _planning_ anything; I’m just curious!”

Gabriel wriggled, getting comfortable.  “To answer your question, yes it’s here.  At some point I may show it to you.  I’m not letting your dickhead big brother anywhere near it, though.”

Sam sighed. He found his clothes folded in a neat pile on the loveseat and began to pull them on.  Gabriel sat up to watch, making disappointed noises when Sam dragged his jeans up and zipped them.

“Hungry?” the hunter asked.

“Oh yeah. I could eat something, too.”

Sam snorted in spite of himself.  “Incorrigible. I had to fall in love with a twelve year old trapped in an archangel’s body, didn’t I?”  He held out a hand and helped Gabriel to his feet, noticing that clothes had appeared on the angel from somewhere.

Gabriel grinned up at him.  “You like it. Admit it.”

Sam rolled his eyes and started for the kitchen.  “I’m going to make some breakfast for everyone.  Wanna call the others for me?”

“Not really, but I will.”

The angel vanished and Sam busied himself pulling flour and baking powder out of the cabinets, setting up a station for making pancakes while a griddle heated on the stove.

An outraged roar sounded from the direction of the hall and Gabriel suddenly reappeared, grinning.

“What did you do?” Sam demanded.

Gabriel lifted his hands, all wounded innocence.  “Just what you told me; I let our guests know you were making breakfast, is all.”

Sam narrowed his eyes.  “Gabriel…did you walk in on Dean and Castiel while they were in bed?”

Dean burst through the door before the archangel could answer, fury on his face, still struggling to button his jeans.  Cas was close behind, wearing a thin t-shirt over his usual slacks.

“You son of a bitch!” Dean snarled.  “You need to learn to fucking _knock!_ ”

“Hey, you think I _wanted_ to get an eyeful of your bare ass?” Gabriel retorted.  “Believe me, it was the last thing on my mind!  There’s not enough brain bleach in the world, bucko.”

Sam groaned. “Gabe, get over here. Dean, go get Harper. I’ll have pancakes and eggs ready soon.”

Gabriel settled on a stool next to Sam’s workstation, offering helpful hints on Sam’s method of whisking the pancake batter and flipping the flat cakes and how the eggs should be fried until Sam lost patience and grabbed the angel’s face, kissing him silent.

When he let go, Gabriel’s eyes were a little dazed.  “What was that for?”

“Mostly to shut you the hell up,” Sam admitted. 

Dean made gagging noises from the other side of the room, where he was curled on the couch against Cas.  Harper just rolled her eyes yet again.  

When the meal was ready, everyone gathered around the table in the breakfast nook off the kitchen and silence fell as they ate.  After, Dean patted his stomach happily.  “You’re a good cook, Sammy.  I feel almost human.”

“Coulda fooled me,” Gabriel muttered, and dodged Sam’s glare.  “Kidding, kidding!  Jeez, no sense of humor.”

“We need to devise a plan,” Castiel said, speaking for the first time. “It surely won’t be long before Lucifer learns our whereabouts, and we must be ready.”

Gabriel rolled his eyes and slumped in his chair, for all the world like a spoiled toddler. “Do we have to?” he whined.

Sam gave him a sympathetic look.  “’Fraid so, Gabe. We should at least get a jump on our strategy.”

“For starters,” Dean said, leaning forward, “Where’s the sword?”

Gabe snorted. “Like I’m telling _you._ ”

“Easy,” Sam said before Dean could reply.  “Play nice, both of you.”

Both men scowled and Sam grinned at how alike their expressions were. They were more similar than either would admit.

Gabriel folded his arms over his chest.  “It’s safe.” His expression forbore further comment.

Harper pushed back from the table and headed for the coffee maker to fill her cup. “I’ve been thinking,” she said. “Gabe, how big is this place of yours? Just the lodge or do you own any land?”

“It’s about a thousand acres,” Gabriel said, confused.

“Anyone out here but you?”

“Couple hundred mule deer and probably some timber wolves,” the archangel said, his brow furrowing even more.  “Why?”

Harper sat back down and sipped her coffee.  “Why don’t we summon Lucifer here?”

There was a moment of stunned silence and then everyone started talking at once.

“Are you insane?”

“That’s suicide!”

“What the fuck are you thinking?”

“That is a foolhardy idea, Harper.”

Harper just waited.  When the objections began to run out, she took another swallow of coffee.  “This is a damn good roast, Gabriel,” she said. “Blue Mountain?”

Gabriel nodded, his eyes like thunder.  “Why would you think it a good idea to invite my big brother _here_?” he demanded.

Harper lifted a shoulder.  “Well, for one thing, it minimizes collateral damage as much as humanly possible. We’re the only ones likely to be injured if there’s fallout.  You talk a big game, pal, but I know you’re not any crazier about casualties than we are.”

Gabriel just scowled at her.

“Besides,” she continued, “If _we_ call _him_ , then it’s our playing field. Home court advantage and all that shit.”

“She’s got a point,” Sam said.  “He hasn’t found us, so we can take our time and get this right.  It’s better than looking over our shoulders for the rest of our lives, isn’t it?”

Gabriel scowled harder and Sam fought back a smile.  The archangel was beginning to weaken, he could tell. He wasn’t sure how he knew, but something in the set of Gabriel’s mouth and around his eyes gave it away.

“I don’t like it,” Dean said, and Gabriel’s mouth snapped shut on what Sam suspected were the same words.  “Might as well grab a tiger by the tail.  Lucifer’s not a housecat; when we let go, he’s going to be _pissed._ ”

“So we don’t let go,” Harper said.  “We trap him and throw his sorry ass in the pit and lock it behind him forever.”

“You make it sound so easy,” Gabriel snapped, and this time Dean’s mouth closed abruptly.

Sam couldn’t help the snicker that slipped out that time, and both men turned to look at him, eyebrows raised.  “Sorry,” Sam said, sobering.  “Nothing funny here. Harper, you were saying?”

Harper leaned forward, setting her coffee down.  “Remember you telling me about the enormous devil’s trap in Wyoming, Sam?”

“Well…yeah,” Sam said.  “But we don’t have railroad ties.  And even with Cas _and_ Gabe working, I’m not sure how we’d get something that large into place.”

“Not to mention us pulling that much energy would basically send up a homing beacon inviting Lucifer here before we were ready for him,” Gabriel said. He was still glowering but beginning to look intrigued.  “However, if we were to…”

Gabriel snapped paper and pen out of thin air and began to draw complicated shapes, talking animatedly while the others bent their heads to listen.

 

It took them nearly two full days to get everything to their liking. Gabriel was, unsurprisingly, very picky about every detail and didn’t hesitate to voice his displeasure when his orders weren’t followed exactly.

He and Dean kept up a running verbal battle, but Sam and Castiel could see that the sharp edges were beginning to soften, and several times one or the other combatant had to look away to hide an unwilling smile at a particularly on point jab.

By the end of the second day, things were finally in place to Gabriel’s satisfaction. Sam and he fell into bed that night, too exhausted at first to do more than curl up together, holding tight to each other.

“If this doesn’t work…” Sam said.

Gabriel’s arms tightened until Sam gasped, his ribs creaking.  “Don’t talk like that,” the angel said, his voice fierce. “It’ll work.  It has to.”

They’d laid out the giant devil’s trap with huge rolls of barbed wire from a barn behind the lodge, on ground that Gabriel had swept clean, covering it again with heaps and drifts of snow so that it looked untouched and pristine. Even knowing it was there, Sam couldn’t locate it without Gabriel pointing out exactly where it lay.

Sam closed his eyes and nodded, swallowing hard.

They made love that night with a silent, desperate urgency, their hands mapping out constellations of love and fear and longing against one another’s skin. All too soon, Sam shuddered to completion, gasping and trembling as Gabriel followed him over the edge. There were tears on his face, he knew, but the angel didn’t mention them.

After, they lay silently, fingertips tracing through drying sweat, the air heavy with all they couldn’t say, and watched the sun rise, spilling across the snow and streaking it with pale golds and yellows. 

Sam caught Gabriel’s hand when he moved to get out of bed.  “Gabe…”

The angel kissed him, not gently.  “Don’t say it,” he whispered into his mouth.  “Don’t you dare say it.”

Sam choked back the words and kissed him in return, sliding his hands into Gabriel’s hair, praying this wouldn’t be the last time he ever did it. 

“Isn’t that sweet?”  The dry, amused voice behind them startled them apart and man and angel spun to look.

Lucifer stood in the middle of the lodge, hands in his pockets, smiling at them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry. So VERY sorry. I swear to all the lords of Kobol that I'd forgotten about this particular cliffhanger. ~hides face in shame~


	9. Chapter 9

Both men froze.

“Please, don’t get up on my account,” the Devil said.  He was still smiling.

Gabriel stepped in front of Sam.  “Hello, big brother.” His voice was impressively steady. “Nice of you to drop in like this. Can I get you anything? Tea?  Coffee?  Blood of a virgin?”

Sam’s mind was reeling.  _Where was Dean?  Castiel, Harper?  Did they know that Lucifer was here?  Were they safe?_

Lucifer shook his head. “Not thirsty, but thanks, brother mine.”

“In that case,” Gabriel said, “Mind if I ask why you’re here?”

Lucifer pretended to pout.  “Really, Gabriel, after all the effort you’ve put into my trap, you’re going to pretend you don’t know why I stopped by?”

“I figured you’d tell us when you were good and ready,” Gabriel said. He put one hand behind his back where Lucifer couldn’t see it and silently snapped his fingers at Sam, who blinked. _What was that supposed to mean?_   Hesitantly, Sam took his hand and Gabriel shot him an annoyed look over his shoulder, letting go instantly.

Sam dropped his hand, more bewildered than ever. 

Lucifer was speaking, unaware of their silent byplay.   “I guess I can tell you.  But first, let’s get the whole gang here, shall we?”

With that, Dean, Castiel and Harper blinked into sight between Lucifer and Gabriel on the floor and Sam’s stomach clenched.  All three were bound and gagged.  Blood was sheeting down Dean’s face from an ugly scalp wound and Harper was unconscious.  Castiel’s trench coat was ripped in several places, bloody and hanging in ribbons. They’d clearly fought hard before being subdued.

Dean stared at Sam over the gag, eyes wild.  Sam tried to get up, get to him, but Gabriel’s arm stopped him, as strong and inflexible as iron.  Sam struggled, snarling, but for once the angel wasn’t holding back.  This wasn’t Sam’s gentle, caring lover of the past few days; this was the archangel Gabriel, and Sam wasn’t going anywhere.  Eventually he stopped fighting and slumped on the bed, eyes still on Dean.

“As you can see,” Lucifer said, “All the pieces on the board are mine. So how about we talk?”

“How about not?” Gabriel said, and hurled himself at his brother.

They clashed with a sound like thunderheads colliding but Sam barely registered it, lunging off the bed for Dean.  He was halfway across the floor when something heavy hit his back, sending him sprawling and knocking the air out of his lungs.

Sam twisted and fought desperately, but his arms were twisted behind his back with brutal efficiency before he could get his balance, and then a smiling young woman with olive skin and black eyes was dragging him upright.

“Hello Sam,” she said.

Sam stared at her, mind reeling.  She seemed vaguely familiar somehow but he couldn’t place her.

She pouted. “Was I really that forgettable? Maybe this will help.” Her demon eyes slid from pure black to deep brown, and she gave him an appreciative look from under her lashes.

Sam just blinked.

“Oh, for fuck’s _sake,_ ” the demon snapped. “ _This_ is the boss’s vessel?  It’s a good thing he doesn’t want you for your brains, you mouth-breather! You nearly trampled me outside the cantina in Monterrey in the middle of your sexual identity crisis and you don’t even remember that?”

Sam’s mouth fell open.  “ _You?_ ”

“There it is!” the demon crowed.  “Took you long enough!”

“But…that means…” Sam was having difficulty speaking.

“Yeah, you idiot, it means we’ve had you under surveillance since Mexico. Now shut up, I want to watch the show.”

She dragged him around to face the two archangels, still slugging it out, and shoved him to his knees with vicious force.

Sam couldn’t do anything but watch the battle with his heart in his throat. Gabriel landed a hard punch that would have flattened a buffalo but Lucifer shook it off and countered with a hook to the jaw that sent Gabriel staggering backwards.  The house shook with the force of the blows and Sam found he couldn’t breathe.  The bond filtered and diluted most of the pain that Gabriel was feeling, but Sam knew the angel was sustaining a significant amount of damage.

Gabriel flicked a glance toward Sam and froze, shock on his face at seeing the hunter on his knees, tied up and helpless.

_I’m sorry,_ Sam thought miserably, and Lucifer stepped in close to his distracted brother, silver chains appearing out of nowhere to settle almost lovingly over Gabriel’s wrists.

Gabriel sagged, the fight rushing out of him, and Lucifer nodded.

“That’s more like it,” he said, tone approving.  “Now, you stay here, little brother,” and he shoved Gabriel to the floor, “While Sam and I have a talk.”

Sam watched the Devil approach, his heart in his mouth.  He tilted his chin up defiantly but said nothing.

“Such hostility,” Lucifer murmured, his fingers sliding along Sam’s jaw.

The hunter suppressed a shiver.

“Sam, Sam, I hoped it wouldn’t come to this.  All I wanted was to talk to you, help you see why this is a necessary thing, but you…you just won’t stop fighting, will you?”  Lucifer sighed.  “So I guess we’ll do it the hard way.”

He nodded at his demon, who let go of Sam and crossed to Dean, dragging him to his knees. Dean fought hard but a vicious punch to his kidney soon stopped him and he gasped for air. 

Sam gritted his teeth.  “If you kill him, I will _never_ say yes to you,” he snarled.

Lucifer rolled his eyes.  “Well, obviously. That much has been clear from the beginning.  You two are annoyingly codependent.  So I’m not going to kill Dean.

“I am, however, very, very good at keeping people alive in the maximum amount of pain possible.  Are you getting my drift, Sam?”

A knife appeared in the demon’s hand and she casually plunged it into Dean’s shoulder to the hilt.  Dean’s eyes went wide and a muffled scream ripped from his throat as Castiel roared and fought his bonds.

“ _Stop_ ,” Sam begged, but the demon wasn’t listening.

Leaving the knife embedded in Dean’s shoulder, she ripped the hunter’s shirt in two down the front and trailed her hand appreciatively across his bare chest. “Such pretty skin,” she murmured. “Let’s see what kind of pictures I can draw on it.”  She yanked the knife out, ignoring the hot gush of blood, and gave Dean a hard shove. He sprawled backward onto his bound hands, slipping in his own blood, and the demon pounced, straddling his hips. Castiel sobbed behind his gag, straining to get to his lover.

Lucifer caressed Sam’s neck and the hunter shuddered. 

“You see, Sam, I control all the pieces on the board.  You, with your foolish mortal hubris, thought you could trap me, make me do what you want, _dance to your tune._ ” His lip curled at the thought. “This is the part where you realize just how hopelessly outmatched you are, and you say…yes.”

Sam struggled to breathe.

“Say yes, Sam, and Dean lives.  Say yes and I’ll even let Gabriel live.  Oh, I’ll clip his wings, of course, and make him mortal; last thing I need is him coming after me all vengeful and shit.  But if you say yes, if you let me in, your loved ones will live.  Come on, Sam, you know what the right thing to do here is.”

“Don’t do it, Sammy,” Gabriel gasped.  “ _Don’t-_ ” Lucifer flicked a finger and Gabriel reeled backward, sliding across the floor before fetching up against the dais steps with a grunt.

Dean screamed again as the demon cut deeper, twisting the tip of the blade, and Sam choked on tears.  Dean turned his head, eyes finding his brother’s, and shook his head, hard.

_Don’t do it._

_I have to,_ Sam pleaded silently.

Dean shook his head again.  _No you don’t.  Don’t do it._

Hard fingers gripped Sam’s jaw and jerked his head around.  “Ignore your idiot brother,” Lucifer hissed. “Say yes and all this stops. Or say nothing and let Gaylos continue his good work.  Did you know that he’s the author of manslaughter and bloodshed?  How long do you think he’s been honing his craft? I’ll give you a hint: it’s more than a few years.  And when he’s done with Dean, he’s going to start on Gabriel.  Archangels are a lot stronger than humans, you know; I wouldn’t be surprised if he lasted several years before his mind breaks.”

Dean arched upward, choking back another scream, and Sam shut his eyes, ignoring the tears sliding down his face.

“ _Say yes,_ ” Lucifer growled.

Sam opened his eyes and found Gabriel, struggling to his knees. Their gazes locked and the archangel opened his mouth but Sam shook his head.  There were tears on Gabriel’s face too, he realized dimly.

_I’m sorry_ , he thought, willing Gabriel to understand him.  _I love you._

He turned and looked up at Lucifer.

“Yes,” he said clearly.

 

Lucifer closed his eyes, savoring the word, and then pure white light erupted from his vessel’s eyes and mouth with a roar.  Sam waited, eyes fixed on Gabriel’s form, drinking in the last sight he’d have of his angel. 

“Sam,” Gabriel said, his voice urgent, “Sam, listen to me.  Remember what I gave you in Mexico?”

Sam blinked, gathering his thoughts.  Memory flashed.  _The coin, with its curiously square edges and odd lettering._ He managed a nod. Lucifer’s light was gathering, coalescing above Sam’s head.

_“That’s not the Sword,_ ” Gabriel shouted, and the gathered light hit Sam like a freight train. He blacked out.

 

When he woke up, his vision was doubled and blurry and he blinked several times, trying to clear his sight.  He couldn’t have been out long; Gabriel was still on his knees and Gaylos was still on top of Dean’s prone body, staring at Sam.  Lucifer’s empty vessel lay on the floor near Sam’s feet. 

Sam rubbed his face, registering only after the fact that his bonds were gone. His mind felt…fuzzy.

_No._

Sam froze. That thought wasn’t his.

_This can’t be._ The voice in his head was disbelieving, worlds of rage contained within it and Sam realized with a start that he was hearing Lucifer from the inside.

_You are soul bonded with_ Gabriel _?  No. You were to be mine! I will_ murder _him._

Sam felt a snarl twist his face and he took a lurching step towards Gabriel before he could stop himself.  He fought the rising tide of fury that welled within him, staggering backwards.

“No,” he panted out loud.  “You’re not going to touch him.”

Gabriel’s eyes were wide, watching Sam’s battle. 

Sam gritted his teeth as Lucifer forced him forward again, hands reaching for Gabriel’s throat.  He was strong; hideously, inhumanly strong.  Sam had no idea how he was even able to fight back at all, but he wasn’t going to stop to question it. 

He poured his concentration into keeping Lucifer from taking another step and they grappled, locked together in Sam’s mind.

Sweat was pouring down the hunter’s face, getting in his eyes.  He wavered and Lucifer growled in triumph, sensing the shift.

_It’s not the Sword._ Gabriel’s voice rang through Sam’s mind again.  _What did that even mean?  If Lucifer’s Sword wasn’t the coin, why had he bothered to say it at all? Because…_ Sam’s eyes widened.  _Because it was something else Gabriel had given him, something Sam still had in his pocket._

Sam plunged his hand into his jeans pocket, gripping the pocketknife and nearly dropping it in his haste to pull it free.  He flicked the blade, laughably tiny, open and then he _did_ drop it as the knife _twisted,_ unfolding and expanding from a two inch piece of steel into a three foot long length of gleaming unearthly metal.

Lucifer roared in his head and Sam lunged for the sword without stopping to think. He couldn’t spare a look at Gabriel or Dean.  It was time to end this.

Without hesitation, Sam shoved the sword into his own stomach and the world went white.

 

He was drowning, choking in a sea of blood and rage, endless, boundless fury that howled and buffeted through him.  The pain was almost as strong as the anger, gnawing a hole in his guts with blunt teeth that twisted and tore.

A white light was growing, filling his head until every nook and cranny was laid bare. He was going to explode, Sam knew; go supernova and destroy the world in the process.

The raging in his mind suddenly stilled and Lucifer spoke, worlds of grief contained within his voice.

_This cannot be how it ends._

And then everything ceased.  The light vanished.  The rage, the grief, the blood; all of it gone.  He was alone in his body again, alone with the pain.

Sam whimpered and curled in on himself.  There were hands on his arms, voices speaking urgently in his ear, but he couldn’t focus on anything but the agony ripping a hole through his stomach. _Make it stop.  Please. Please make it stop. Let me die. Let me go._ He didn’t realize he was speaking aloud until Gabriel answered him.

“ _No_ ,” he said, and then the pain was gone and Sam was floating, warm and comfortable.  Exhaustion dragged him under like a tidal wave.

 

“I can’t _believe_ I slept through the entire fucking thing,” Harper shouted, and several voices shushed her at once. “Sorry,” she said, her voice more subdued.  “I just…seriously? I had a front row seat to the apocalypse and _I_ _missed it?_ ”

Sam stretched and yawned.  He was flat on his back in Gabriel’s huge feather bed, he realized when he opened his eyes, surrounded by his family.

Four pairs of eyes regarded him anxiously. 

Sam felt his stomach.  It was smooth and unmarked, no sign of where Lucifer’s blade had pierced it.  Sam looked up at Gabriel, kneeling next to him on the mattress.

“Is he…?”

Gabriel closed his eyes, relief naked on his expressive face, and nodded. “He’s gone, Sammy. You did it.”

“Oh.” Sam looked at Dean, face still bloody, tears tracking through the blood and grime.  “Dean? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Sammy,” his brother managed, gripping Sam’s hand.  “Cas healed me.  Harper’s okay too.  We all are.”

“Okay,” Sam said, closing his eyes.  “That’s…that’s good.  Think I’m…gonna sleep some more…now.”

He jerked back awake, grabbing for Gabriel’s hand.  The archangel’s eyes widened, but he didn’t move.

“You’ll…be here when I wake up?” Sam asked.

Gabriel’s face softened.  “Of course I will. Rest now.”

 

This time when Sam woke up, he felt much closer to normal.  Nothing hurt. Strong arms were wrapped around his waist, a warm body pressed against his from shoulder to ankle, a bare foot rubbing against his.

“If that’s not Gabe,” Sam said, his eyes closed, “I’m gonna have some ‘splaining to do.”

The foot stopped moving and then there was a low, definitely male snicker.

“Oh good,” Sam said, and rolled over, pinning the archangel to the bed.

Gabriel smiled up at him, whiskey brown eyes turning to gold with amusement. “Hi,” he said quietly.

“Hi yourself,” Sam whispered, and captured the angel’s lips.  They were warm beneath his and Gabe sighed into his mouth, relaxed and pliant.

A throat cleared and Sam pulled away, grinning at Dean, who was standing on the dais trying to scowl at the pair on the bed and failing.

“Feel like getting out of bed any time today?” his brother asked.  “You’ve been asleep most of the morning.”

Sam sat up, shoving his hair out of his eyes.  “What day is it?”

“Same day it was when Lucifer dropped in for his visit,” Gabriel said, sliding off the mattress and holding out his hand for Sam to take.  Sam accepted it, getting to his feet and finding himself slightly shaky.  “The fight took a lot out of you,” Gabriel said, steadying him.  “It may take a little while before you feel a hundred percent again. Lean on me if you need to.”

Sam wrapped an arm around the shorter man’s shoulders and they moved slowly to the loveseat where Harper was sitting.  She jumped up and helped Gabriel maneuver the tall hunter down onto it, dropping a kiss on his cheek as he settled in with a sigh.  Sam glanced at Gabriel, but the angel just arched a brow and sat down beside him.  Dean took the chair opposite and Castiel appeared, giving Sam a small but clearly heartfelt smile, and sitting down beside Dean.

“Hungry, Sammy?” Harper asked.

He was starving, Sam realized in surprise.  His stomach growled and Harper laughed. 

“Gabe snapped us up a five course meal earlier,” she said over her shoulder on her way to the kitchen.  “Which is a blessing, because I sure as fuck can’t cook, and Dean nearly poisoned us when he tried.”

“Hey!” Dean protested.  “It was only a little burnt!” 

“So…who wants to fill me in on what the hell happened?” Sam asked, stretching out his legs and sighing in relief. 

Harper came back with a plate and Sam began to eat as everyone started to speak at once. He held up his fork for silence.

“Whoa, _whoa!_   One at a time, people, jeez!  Dean, start with how Lucifer got the drop on you guys.”

Dean flushed and scowled at his lap.  Castiel’s lips twitched. 

“He was…distracted,” the angel said, a desert in the dryness of his tone.

Gabriel snorted with laughter.  “Meaning they were going at it like bunnies.”

Sam elbowed him in the ribs.  “Yeah, dumbass, I got that part.  So what happened after that?”

“How much do you remember?” Gabriel asked, sobering.

Sam thought back.  “Up to where I said yes to Lucifer, it’s all pretty clear.  After that, things start getting a little hazy.”

Gabriel’s eyes darkened.  “Don’t think we’re not going to have words about that, Sam Winchester.”

“Get in line,” Dean growled.

Sam held up his hands.  “Can we save that for later? Right now I just really want to know what the fuck _happened_!”

Gabriel sighed and tucked his bare feet under himself, resting his back against the arm of the loveseat.  “Lucifer entered you. Only he didn’t count on our soul bond, which is why he couldn’t completely control you, and you were able to fight him long enough to get to the sword.”

“Speaking of which,” Sam said, glaring at the archangel, “You couldn’t be bothered to _tell_ me that I was carrying around one of the only weapons that could kill Lucifer, in my pocket _for four months?_   What if I’d lost it?  Or thrown it away?”

Gabriel shrugged.  “You’re sentimental, Sammy.  I knew you’d hang onto it.”

Sam narrowed his eyes.  “You…you are unbelievable.”

“It’s been said,” Gabriel agreed.

Sam's eyes widened suddenly.  "So, when he showed up and you put your hand behind your back...you were asking for the sword, weren't you?"

" _Now_ you figure it out," Gabriel said.

Sam glared at him.  "Or you could have  _communicated_ with me, you  _ass!_ "

Gabriel just rolled his eyes.

Sam took another bite of roast beef and made a _“go on”_ gesture with his fork. 

“Well, that’s about it,” Gabriel said.  “Except you pulled out the sword and fucking _stabbed yourself in the gut with it._ ”  He glared at the lanky hunter, who shifted his weight.

“What else was I supposed to do?” Sam said, knowing he sounded too defensive. “I guess I hoped you could bring me back if I _did_ die, and Lucifer had to be stopped even if you couldn’t, in which case I was hoping I’d end up in Heaven. So I did the only thing that made sense.”

Gabriel pinched the bridge of his nose, clearly battling for calm. Dean was making little growling noises in the back of his throat and Castiel was holding his hand, trying to keep him from erupting.  Harper just watched the show, head swiveling from one person to the next.

“Sam Winchester, you are the _stupidest_ smart person I have ever met,” Gabriel finally said.  “Lucifer’s blade isn’t just powerful enough to defeat Lucifer himself; it’s one of the oldest, strongest weapons in the world. It’s very nearly sentient. It can kill almost  _anything,_ and when something dies by its edge, that something doesn’t get to come back to life.  _It stays dead._ If its target has a soul, that soul doesn’t even go to heaven or hell.  It just _stops being._ Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Sam stared at him, his eyes wide.  “You mean…”

Gabriel closed his eyes.  “Yeah. I mean.”

“So…how the hell am I alive?” Sam demanded. 

Gabriel opened his eyes again and looked at him.  “The only thing I can figure is that…it likes you.”

Sam couldn’t remember how to close his mouth. 

“You’re going to catch flies,” Harper observed, snickering.

Gabriel shot her a quelling look that had no effect and Sam dropped his head into his hands.

“Oh my God,” he groaned.

Gabriel smacked him on the back of the head.  “No blaspheming,” he said.

Sam looked up.  “Where is it now?”

Harper pointed.  The gleaming silver sword lay on the floor near Lucifer’s vessel.  “No one can touch it,” she said.  “It won’t let us near it.”

Sam pushed himself to his feet with a grunt, Gabriel instantly at his elbow to steady him, and walked carefully across the floor toward the blade. He bent to pick it up and hesitated, his hand hovering an inch away from it, and then nerved himself and grasped the hilt.

Warmth washed over him, a feeling of rightness and contentment sweeping through him, of _belonging_. Sam straightened, staring down at the sword as it folded in on itself, transforming back into the unassuming pocketknife he’d been carrying around all those long months.

“What am I supposed to do with it?” he asked Gabriel.

The archangel shrugged but his eyes were sharp, watching the weapon in Sam’s hand. “Your choice, Sammo, but I think it just…chose you as its bearer.”

Sam stood undecided for a minute longer.  Finally he sighed and shoved the knife into his pocket and turned to shuffle back to the couch.  He was exhausted.

He collapsed on the seat, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. Silence fell, broken eventually by Dean’s voice.

“Harper, I’ve been meaning to check out that theater room of Gabe’s. You wanna show it to us? We can induct Cas into the joys of Monty Python.”

Sam opened his eyes as everyone stood, including Gabriel, who looked at Sam anxiously. Dean took the archangel’s arm.

“Not you,” the hunter said quietly.  “I think you should stay here with my little brother.”

Gabriel opened his mouth and then closed it again, nodding abruptly. His eyes were grateful when they flicked up to Dean’s and away again and Sam had to swallow a sudden lump in his throat.

Dean winked at him on the way out the door and Sam smiled.  _Thank you._

“I don’t understand,” Castiel said in response to something Harper had said too quietly for Sam to hear. “What do elderberries and hamsters have in common?”

Dean dragged the confused angel out the door as Gabriel and Sam snickered behind them.

When they were alone, Gabriel glanced at Sam and then away, suddenly seeming nervous.

Sam held out a hand.  “Help me back to the bed? I think I’ve had enough exercise for one day.”

Gabriel helped him up and they made their way across the floor and up the dais steps. Sam was trembling as he collapsed onto the mattress and he sighed, relieved, when his head hit the pillows.

The archangel stood next to him, shifting his weight.  Sam opened one eye and glared up at him.

“Is there a reason you’re not down here with me?” he demanded.

The air left Gabriel’s lungs with a grateful whoosh and he nearly hurled himself onto the bed, wrapping both arms and a leg around Sam’s body and pressing his head against Sam’s chest, clinging limpet-like to the hunter. Sam hugged him back, closing his eyes.

“I nearly lost you,” Gabriel whispered.  “After your whole speech about not sacrificing myself and being so dangerously stupid, you went and did the exact same thing.  You nearly died.  I’m still not sure why you didn’t.”

Sam’s arms tightened around the angel.  “Me either,” he admitted.  A thought struck him and he pulled away enough to see Gabriel’s face.  “Does this mean we’re even, since we both risked our lives?”

Gabriel narrowed his eyes.  “Not even _close_ , kiddo.  You’re going to spend the next several centuries making it up to me.”

Sam snorted a laugh.  “I hate to break it to you, Gabe, but I’m gonna be lucky to make it to eighty years old, especially considering my profession.”

“Oh, did I forget to mention?” Gabriel said.  “You’re soul-bonded with an angel.  That kind of extends your lifespan a bit.”

Sam let go and sat up.  “It does what now?”

Gabriel met his eyes, smiling.  “When angels take human mates, it gives them longer lives,” he said.  "Has to do with binding my soul to yours." He suddenly looked uncertain.  “That’s…okay, isn’t it?”

Sam rubbed his face, his mind reeling.  “Does the same apply to Dean because of Cas?”

“Yep,” Gabriel said, watching him carefully.  “Sam…are you upset with me?  I meant to tell you, I really did; it just slipped my mind.”

A disbelieving laugh burst free and Sam grabbed Gabriel’s face, kissing him hard. “Yes,” he murmured between kisses, “Yes, of _course_ it’s okay, I can’t even…I’m going to have several _hundred years_ with you?”

“You can still die of mortal means,” Gabriel pointed out.  “So that means you’d better not go waltzing into any more vampire nests without doing proper research beforehand, you hear me?”

Sam nodded. “I’m still going to hunt, though,” he said, suddenly worried that the archangel understand this about him. “There’s too much out there that needs to be stopped.  Too many innocent people that need to be saved.”

Gabriel looked confused.  “Well, of course you are,” he said.  “What else would you do?”

Sam laughed outright, his heart suddenly light and free.  “I love you,” he said.

Gabriel grinned up at him.  “I love you too, Sammy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case anyone is interested, Wikipedia has a fascinating list of theological demons, which is where I found Andromalius and Gaylos.
> 
> [You can see it here.](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_theological_demons)
> 
> Also, Gaylos is technically Gaylos-Lobos, an alternate spelling for [this gnarly dude](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Glassia-labolis). 
> 
> (Man, I really hope my links work.)


	10. Chapter 10

EPILOGUE

 

Sam sat in the breakfast nook, eyeing the innocuous penknife that lay on the table in front of him.  It looked like any other pocket tool; battered red enamel casing and several small blades folded within. 

The hunter sighed and ran a hand through his hair.  Everyone else was in Gabriel’s home theater, excited about a new movie from Marvel that the archangel had just acquired.  And Dean had the audacity to call _Sam_ a nerd.

Sam reached for the knife and hesitated.  This thing was one of the most powerful artifacts in the world.  It had killed Satan himself; Sam didn’t think it was stupid to be just a little cautious around it, no matter how much Gabriel assured him that the blade seemed to _like_ Sam.  And how weird was _that,_ anyway?  It was an inanimate object; it wasn’t supposed to have an opinion on things!

Sam sighed and picked up the knife.  That feeling of warmth and rightness swept over him again and he suppressed a shiver, _calling_ to the blade, asking it to take its rightful shape.

He watched as it twisted and unfolded in his hand, snapping into a gleaming silver blade three feet long, shining like no metal or alloy he’d ever seen.  The hilt fit his large hands like it had been made for them.  Who knew, maybe it had; maybe the blade adjusted to fit its bearer.

Sam sent a tendril of thought toward the weapon, seeking, questioning.  The blade responded so quickly Sam gasped, nearly dropping it.  Images flooded his mind; being wielded in Lucifer’s battles, cutting down hordes of angels, drinking deeply of angelic blood until the hilt was slippery in Satan’s hands.

The sword was ancient, forged by Lucifer when he was still an angel in the Heavenly Host, used to battle for righteousness until Lucifer’s pride forced his Fall and the end began.  It had been used for evil after that, unable to turn against its master but knowing its new purpose was wrong.  Lucifer had felt it, the subtle struggle for power within the blade, and had taken to using it sparingly.  It had been hidden away for millennia. 

Now it was no longer alone though, and if an inanimate object could be happy, this weapon was.  Sam found himself stroking his thumb over the hilt.

_I will not use you for evil,_ he promised it. 

The blade responded with a hum of contentment and folded itself back into the penknife.  Sam stood up and dropped it into his jeans pocket and headed across the lodge.  Truth be told, he’d been wanting to see that movie too.

 

EPILOGUE II

 

Dean woke up to a sleepy mouth planting kisses along his bare collarbone.  He arched into it, sighing with pleasure as warm hands roved his sleep-slackened limbs.  The mouth moved downward and the hands pushed him onto his back.  Dean went willingly, still more than half asleep.

Castiel lifted his head and smiled down at him, dragging his tongue over his full lips and making Dean shiver.

“I believe I promised you a month in bed,” the angel said in the whiskey-and-gravel voice that never failed to go straight to Dean’s groin. 

Dean grinned at him, stretching.  “I seem to recall something about you making me scream until I was hoarse,” he said, and rolled his hips up to meet Castiel’s.

The angel’s eyes darkened.  “I think it’s time to keep my promise,” he whispered, and dropped his head to kiss his lover.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, my lovelies, here endeth another thrilling installment of what it's like inside Michaela's brain these days. Thank you so, so much for your comments and kudos - they are my lifeblood. (Addicted to positive feedback? ME?) 
> 
> In case you're wondering, I'm 9/10th done with the next story and will be posting the first chapter soon. You may want to subscribe to me so you don't miss it, but hey, I'm not your mother. 
> 
> Also, disheveledangelinatrenchcoat is the best beta in the world and YOU CAN'T HAVE HER.
> 
> And as always, you can find me on Tumblr at [GreyMichaela](http://greymichaela.tumblr.com) for SPN content and things that make me laugh.


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